


Love Child

by MeanderingMotivation



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Father Shizuo, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Izaya is a Protective Mother, Living Together, Love Child Psyche, Love/Hate, M/M, Mama Izaya, Medical Inaccuracies, Mpreg, Parenthood, Post Mpreg, Post-Canon, Psyche is an Adorable Angel, Running Away, Second Chances, Shizuo Wants To Be a Good Father, Uncle Shinra and Aunt Celty, Will Psyche Let Him?, coming home, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:18:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8160286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeanderingMotivation/pseuds/MeanderingMotivation
Summary: Four years ago, Izaya Orihara was unknowingly subjected to medical treatment that made it possible for him to bear children. Four years ago he was impregnated by Shizuo Heiwajima after a one night stand. 
One year after their son's birth, Shizuo, in anger after an argument, scorned Izaya and told him he wanted nothing to do with the ‘mini-flea’ 
So Izaya took their son to travel, leaving Tokyo and breaking the heart of his repentant enemy. 
Four years later, Izaya has returned to settle down, bringing home a cheerful and bright son who seems to despise ‘Daddy’ for hurting ‘Mommy’ all those years ago.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to any random readers. 
> 
> I'm still relatively new to the archive, so forgive me for any mistakes I may make. 
> 
> Before anyone begins reading, they should check out the WARNINGS: 
> 
> This story contains extreme medical inaccuracies (obviously) and potential OOC (since, well, Izaya and Shizuo have a love child) Also, I'm not that familiar with Male Pregnancy stories. They never really appealed to me but then one day inspiration hit. Another forewarning, I didn't want to make the baby an original character, so I used Psyche. Also, I've never read a Psyche-centered story before so any information I got about his character was through Google. Finally, this story takes place after the first Durarara anime series. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

 

 

* * *

 

 

It had been so hard, back then.

Hearing the impossible diagnosis of being pregnant from his remorseful childhood friend. Shinra had used him as a lab rat at the behest of his kooky father.

He’d never wanted children. Thought he could never love one. He believed in the rights of abortion, and gladly would have taken the option, if it had been available for him.

But he couldn’t. The procedure was life threatening, and he was too much of a coward to risk dying. So he’d reluctantly agreed to have _**it,**_ always said with such disgust and detestation. He’d give _**it**_ away when it was born, to a family who actually _wanted_ to have a baby, and never worry about the wretched parasite ever again.

He’d been seething, furious with Shinra for doing this to him, and furious at himself for sinking so low as to sleep with that monster. It had been messy, detestable. He’d been fucked in an alley like some prostitute, moaning and bucking and _thoroughly enjoying it._ The attraction had always been there, for both of them, but they’d never dreamed on acting on something so taboo. It just…happened. An accident. It had been so cliche that Izaya had wanted to vomit. Vomit like he did each morning ever since **_it_** had been created.

He could still remember how it felt, ribbons of Shizuo’s essence dripping down his thighs, his neck ravaged with bites that left him bleeding and bruised. The brute, unsurprisingly, had been animalistic in his lovemaking. And once they were both sated, they’d gone their separate ways, resenting themselves for their lapse in judgement.

Shizuo was lucky. All he had to do was wash the reminder away, smoke a few cigarettes, and fool himself into thinking it never happened.

Izaya was different. He had the reminder living inside of him, twisting and manipulating his body, making his stomach swell and his hormones rage like he was the opposite sex. He _couldn’t_ forget. It was impossible.

He had no choice but to keep ** _it,_** and under Shinra and Shingen’s instructions he managed his condition the best he could, taking a year off work so he could carry it to full-term without any complications. Celty had been helpful, putting aside her dislike for the informant if only for the sake of the unborn child inside of him, and ran errands and other duties for him without a single complaint for his entire pregnancy.

It went by fast, the pregnancy, even with all of his suffering, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint when he actually started thinking of the baby inside him fondly. Perhaps it was when the gender was confirmed, or when Celty shyly gave him a soft blue teddy bear to gift it with when _**it**_ was born, or maybe it was when Shinra and she started treating him like a real extended member of family instead of a charity case.

Shinra would always scold him, when he’d speak of the child like it was a parasite, tell him that the baby was a “Gift” and that soon enough he would be “Cradling that beautiful gift in his own arms”.

And soon enough he was. Exhausted after a C-section, laying on an operation table Shinra had had prepared for the last couple of months, with a delicate little bundle in his arms. The baby had been a few weeks early, premature, and for the first time in his life Izaya felt true, gut-wrenching fear. That baby, sticky with birth and with closed eyes, was his baby. His own _human_. A human he could love fiercely, without judgement, and a human who would love him fiercely in return.

_He’s beautiful…_

He had thought, ghosting a trembling hand over his soft head. When the baby began to cry, he had shushed it, holding the baby to his chest gently and rocking it as if it were second-nature. Celty had gushed at him, quite often, that he had had a dormant ‘motherly nature’ dwelling inside of him all of this time.

“What’s his name?” Shinra had asked quietly, eyes wide as he regarded this new side of his friend.

Celty had ‘looked’ to him keenly, clearly anticipating his answer. She’d tried to convince him into reading baby name books with her many times, and she was excited.

Izaya didn’t know what possessed him. It was an unusual name, it didn’t make any sense, and it was completely random when he breathed “Psyche.”

Shinra had peered at him strangely. “Um…are you sure that’s what you really want to-“ He had been cut off then, by Celty elbowing him roughly. “Sure. Why not.”

[I think it’s unique, Izaya.] Celty had showed her PDA.

A unique name, suiting a very unique son.

In an ideal world, things would have been simple after that. But Izaya had been absent from Ikebukuro for far too long, and there was only so many times Namie could cover for him when the beast came suspiciously sniffing around.

Izaya had been grateful for his large amount of savings. Without them, he wouldn’t have been able to afford the woman’s wage, and he would lose the person who had been running the majority of his household errands. As much as it had frustrated him, he had to stay hidden away throughout his pregnancy. Even going out for a stroll was too much of a risk when you were Izaya Orihara.

Even when Psyche came home with him, his eyes finally beginning to open, he had been afraid to leave his apartment. His baby was so small and fragile, if something were to go wrong out there, if someone were to _hurt_ him…

He should have trusted Namie to watch him for a few hours here and there, because Shizuo finally came storming into his apartment one day, wondering what the ‘bastard flea’ was scheming, only to come across Izaya pacing across the floors, singing softly to try and coerce the energetic little bundle into sleep. Psyche had been hyperactive, even back then.

It had been inevitable that Izaya tell Shizuo he was a father. He hadn’t been in denial about this, but he hadn’t wanted it to be so soon. He’d wanted it to be on his terms, once Psyche was a little older and hardier, in case Shizuo accidentally hurt him in the ensuing argument.

And oh, had there been an ensuing argument. Izaya had been fierce, clutching Psyche protectively, and luckily Shizuo hadn’t resorted to throwing things. It had taken a few hours for the man to calm down and actually listen, and a few hours after that for Shizuo to actually believe Psyche was his son. He’d needed Shinra and Celty’s testaments, and he had been extremely betrayed when he realised that the Dullahan had been lying to him.

Suddenly, a little bit of excitement had swelled Shizuo’s chest, and his eyes had glimmered in hopefulness. He’d looked at Psyche the way a father should look at a son, with all of that love and tenderness, and held out his arms expectantly. “Can I hold him? I promise I’ll be gentle.”

And Izaya had glared at him coldly. “Over my dead body.” He wasn’t about to let that _monster_ touch his baby. That monster with his dangerous strength, he could crush Psyche’s skull with just the slightest twitch of his hand! He could pry Psyche from his cold dead fingertips!

“Why the fuck not!?” Shizuo had growled. “He’s my kid as well!”

“Slowly, Shizuo, slowly.” Shinra had said cautiously, giving the former bartender a firm look. “Mothers are very protective over their young, and I’m afraid this mother doesn’t trust you enough yet.” Shinra had went on, ignoring Izaya’s deadly look. “Wait until Izaya’s ready. Celty and I are even sore pressed to hold him!”

But Shizuo had been too angry to listen. “You had no right to hide this from me! I don’t care if your flea instincts are making you feel possessive, that kid is my son as well and I want joint custody!”

Izaya had let out a derisive laugh. “Is that so? My, my, Shizu-chan, you make it sound like we’re divorcing. Go ahead and get yourself a lawyer. We both know that no court is going to allow _you,_ the famed monster of Ikebukuro, any kind of custody.”

[Izaya!] Celty had been dismayed. [Don’t be so cruel! Shizuo is right! He’s the father!]

“Surprise, surprise, Celty’s on Shizu-chan’s side.” Izaya had spat. “Listen up protozoan, I’ve carried Psyche inside me for nine months. I delivered him, I saw him open his eyes to the world for the first time, and I’ve bathed, fed, and cleaned him. This kid is practically attached to me. I can’t even set him in a crib because he cries when we’re separated! I can’t even go to the _bathroom_ without him! And you have the stones to ask me for joint-custody!? Your brain must be less formed than I thought!”

“You say all this like I had a choice in the matter!” Shizuo had practically roared. “If I’d known you were carrying my son I would have been there for you!”

“YOU WOULD HAVE KILLED ME!” Izaya had finally lost his cool, his eyes becoming wet. He was _tired._ He hardly slept anymore, and Psyche was getting hungry, and he needed to be changed…

Tears dripped down his face, and he turned away in mortification.

“Izaya…” Shinra had said in concern. “When’s the last time you slept?”

He’d shrugged. “I’m not sure…”

A heaved sigh of concern. “You don’t have to be a single-parent, Izaya. Even if you won’t allow Shizuo, Celty and I are more than willing to-“

“No.” Izaya had denied strongly. “I need to do this by myself. If this is what it’s going to be like for the rest of my life, I need to get used to it.”

“You damn flea…” Shizuo’s voice had been wavering. “I’m not gonna let it be like that. I’m gonna be there for my kid, and if that by extension means I’ve got to put up with your scrawny ass, then I’ll do it.”

And that had been that.

For all his hate for Shizuo, he couldn’t deny him rights to Psyche. He also didn’t want to deprive Psyche of having two parents, when Shizuo was willing to be there.

That didn’t mean Izaya trusted Shizuo straight away.

After much bickering, Shizuo had mulishly decided to move into Izaya’s apartment, sleeping on the lounge for months until Izaya finally allowed him to share a bed. For a long time, Izaya hovered ceaselessly when Shizuo was around Psyche, always hesitating to hand him over, and glaring critically when the brute handled their son. Much to the informant’s relief, Shizuo continued with his work, which meant Izaya got to spend most days alone with Psyche (with the exception of a grumpy Namie), which, much to his satisfaction, of _course_ meant Psyche liked him most. Babies tended to naturally like their mother’s more than their father’s, and even though Izaya wasn’t a woman, it still applied, even with Shizuo home.

It wasn’t uncommon (especially in the first few weeks) for Izaya to hand Psyche over and the baby begin to positively _squall_ for Izaya, big fat droplets dripping down his smooth cheeks.

And the more Psyche grew, the more he resembled Izaya (which made the vain man very proud) sharing his dark raven hair and pale skin. His eyes were similar as well, although of a lighter shade than Izaya’s, almost pink.

In Izaya’s opinion, Psyche was the most darling little boy in the whole world, and _certainly_ the most adorable. His baby was perfect!

Shizuo, of course, always guffawed when Izaya went on his rants about Psyche’s perfection, and chortled when Izaya went overboard with his ridiculous baby talk. “I don’t know why you argue,” He’d say in a richly amused voice. “You’re definitely _mommy_.” One time, he’d made this comment whilst holding Psyche. He’d been tossing him up in the air and catching him, much to Psyche’s delight, who giggled manically.

Izaya had merely watched with thinly guised disapproval. He knew from their fights that Shizuo had good reflexes, but he still couldn’t help but worry Shizuo would drop him. “Whatever.” Izaya poked his tongue out, folding Psyche’s laundry. He could have had Namie do it, but he preferred to do things for his baby himself.

“Can you say _ma-ma_ , Psyche?” Shizuo asked of the cooing baby. “Or maybe _fl-ea_.”

Izaya had intended to tell Shizuo that if that was Psyche’s first word, he’d slice him to ribbons, but instead he was left snickering madly when Psyche promptly vomited all over his face. “Serves you right.” He’d barely managed to get out. “I _told you_ I’d just fed him.”

Shizuo, whose face was coated in milky vomit, made a retching sound. “ _ **Fuck.**_ ” He held Psyche, who had a stream of vomit dripping from his open mouth, at arms-length. “Stop laughing!” He growled, which only served to make Izaya laugh more. “Come and deal with this fucking brat, will you!?”

_This_ had Izaya stop laughing. Placing down the pink onesie he had been holding (Shizuo always shook his head, but Izaya swore Psyche seemed to like them) he flounced over, grabbing Psyche away and wiping his chin on the bib he was still wearing. “Bad daddy.” He said to the baby. “Psyche-chan isn’t a _brat_ , is he?” He bounced the baby up and down for a moment, but stopped so as to not have a repeat incident. “Psyche-chan is a little _angel_. Daddy is just a moron for throwing Psyche-chan up in the air~”

“Kill, kill, kill…” Shizuo was heard muttering as he stomped in the direction of the bathroom.

And Izaya had laughed again.

Those had been the good times. For all of his faults, Shizuo had been a good father. A little gruff, for certain, but a good one nevertheless. Psyche had _adored_ him, and although he’d still cry for Izaya at night, he loved playing with Shizuo during the day.

Izaya had always known that just because you lusted for someone, it didn’t mean you loved them, he’d reminded himself of that many times with Shizuo, but Psyche ended up being their _glue._ He brought them together, and they stuck splendidly, despite the bickering.

Yes. They were like a real family.

But things couldn’t last that way, could it?

There was no gradual split-apart. It didn’t take weeks or months. It merely happened.

“Oh Psyche-chan!” Izaya smiled at his son, receiving a bright beam in return. “You look so handsome!”

“He’s wearing pink and white.” Shizuo dully disagreed. “He looks girly.”

“I’ll have you know Psyche pointed these out to me.” Izaya huffed. “Don’t listen to Daddy. He has no right to judge when he wears bartender outfits all of the time.” He wrapped his nicely dressed son in an engulfing hug.

“ _Mama_.” Psyche giggled, in his high-pitched baby voice. “ _Mama_!”

Izaya barely refrained from frowning. Despite his desire to at least be papa, Shizuo’s insistence had turned him into ‘mama’, and he didn’t have the heart to berate Psyche when it had been his first word. Turning one today, Psyche could also say _Dada_ , and was learning other words as well, although most of the time he just babbled nonsensically. Izaya was proud of his son, as he hadn’t expected him to be able to say tangible words until eighteen months. But, like his ‘mother’, he certainly liked to talk, especially in musical tones.

Psyche seemed to rather like music, calming down when Izaya sang, and listening to music when he played with his toys. Izaya didn’t allow him much television (which Shizuo scoffed at) but when Izaya did switch it on, he would always stare dumbstruck whenever a musical commercial or jingle was heard.

Izaya released his son, kissing him on the forehead with a theatrical smacking noise. “I can’t believe my baby is turning one…” He whispered, more to himself than Shizuo. “He used to be so tiny…”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to get weepy.” Shizuo ribbed with a smirk. “He’s not even properly walking yet and already you’re getting sentimental.”

Psyche had begun taking his first wobbly steps not that long ago under Shizuo’s encouragement, and Izaya always watched fretfully in case he fell and hurt himself.

“Shut up, protozoan.” Izaya sniffed snobbishly. “I’m allowed to get emotional about my baby.” Psyche crawled up in his sitting lap, and he stroked his soft hair. “Besides,” This time he wore a smirk. “Don’t act like you didn’t get all teary the first time he called you _Dada_.”

Shizuo flushed. “I didn’t. I just had something in my eyes.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, Shizu-chan~” Izaya teased. “I wonder what all those lowlifes would think if they knew the fortissimo of Ikebukuro cried over a baby’s words.”

“Speaking of lowlifes,” Shizuo grumbled, noticing the time. “I have to get to work.” He stood from his position on the lounge, and bent down to embrace the raven from behind, pecking his son on the forehead. “You be a good boy for Mommy, Psyche. No tantrums or Daddy will-“

“Stop threatening him.” Izaya rolled his eyes. “Psyche-chan is always a good boy. You know he doesn’t throw _real_ tantrums. He’s just trying to communicate.”

“ _Dada_!” Psyche reached up a hand to grab at Shizuo’s sunglasses.

“Yes, Daddy has to go now.” He informed his son reluctantly. “But I’ll see you at Aunty Celty and Uncle Shinra’s later for your party, okay?” He shared a short farewell kiss with Izaya.

Psyche appeared confused when Shizuo stood up, and began grabbing for him. “ _Dada_!”

“Don’t be late, okay?” Izaya said sternly. “Psyche can’t stay up all night waiting, so arrive on time or we’ll have to celebrate without you.”

“I’m going to be there, okay?” Shizuo promised, his face awash with guilt. “Look, Tom’s been so good throughout all of this, when he called last night for me to work today, I couldn’t-“

Izaya sighed. “I understand, Shizu-chan.”

_I understand that Tom’s favour means more than your son’s first birthday._

Izaya didn’t want to fight around Psyche, so he didn’t say this, but judging by Shizuo’s perturbed face, he didn’t need to say it. The brute knew. He’d gotten awfully good at reading Izaya ever since he had moved in.

“Izaya, you know-“

“Wave goodbye to Daddy, Psyche-chan!” Izaya bode in a perky voice. “Bye Daddy!”

Psyche raised a small, spit saturated hand and waved clumsily, looking to Izaya immediately for recognition.

“What a clever boy you are, Psyche-chan!” Izaya praised, tickling his son under the chin. “Does that tickle?” He said teasingly, when Psyche began giggling. He gave another sigh when he heard the door shut behind Shizuo.

He knew the blonde’s work could be unpredictable, but they had a child now, a child who was celebrating his _first birthday_. They’d planned to go to the playground together, and push Psyche on the swing and go down the slide together, but Izaya didn’t fancy going alone. Truth be told, he was too nervous about being recognised. With Shizuo, no one would dare approach him.

Then they were going to get Psyche some shaved ice, and go for a stroll together, Psyche sitting atop Shizuo’s shoulders and peering downwards in interest.

_It doesn’t matter._

Izaya thought resolutely.

_I can give Psyche the perfect birthday without him._

And he knew how.

“Psyche-chan, do you want to read some musical books with Mommy?”

He would make this day about Psyche, by appealing to his love for music. Playing musical games, singing songs…

I don’t need Shizu-chan to give my son what he deserves.

But **_God_** did he want him.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 “Look who it is!” Shinra cheered upon opening the door. “It’s the birthday boy and his mommy!”

Izaya pointedly tapped at his pocket with a glare, a reminder that he was still carrying one of his trusted switchblades.

_“Unca!”_ Psyche squealed, squirming in Izaya’s hold. _“Unca!”_

“He’s calling me uncle!” Shinra proclaimed, a starry look in his eye. “Imagine me, an uncle! And at such a young age as well!”

Izaya rolled his eyes. “Can you move aside? I’m kind of towing a tonne of presents.” Izaya had used the stroller to transport them all, cramming them inside with no small amount of difficulty. Psyche hated the stroller. He always screamed whenever he was placed inside, wanting to be held by his parents. Izaya, of course, obliged, but Shizuo always grouched about it, telling him he was being too soft.

So with one hand cradling his son, and one hand pushing the stroller, he had soldiered all the way to Celty’s and Shinra’s, sticking to back alleys when he could and taking the lesser populated routes, even when they were longer.

Psyche didn’t mind. He didn’t get to go outside as much as regular kids, and was always enthralled by everything he saw. He blabbered to Izaya all the while, and the man replied with mundane ‘is that so’s’ and ‘I see’s’, because he wanted his son to know he was listening, even if he didn’t exactly understand.

“Oh my God!” Shinra breathed, as he eyed the behemoth mound. “Izaya! You should have called Celty to help you!”

“It was fine.” Izaya assured, gratefully stepping inside when Shinra moved.

“That independent streak again…” Shinra tutted. He led them (and the ridiculously laden stroller) inside of the apartment, and Psyche renewed his squirming, struggling to get down so he could crawl about and explore.

“Just a moment, baby.” Izaya said, forcibly yanking the stroller. “We’re almost…” He trailed off as he caught sight of the lounge room, which had been transformed into a baby-proof haven. Usually, Psyche was finding all kinds of dangerous instruments lying about when they visited, but today everything was clean, with all sharp and dangerous objects stowed away safely in locked drawers and cupboards.

But it wasn’t only that which had rendered him speechless.

White and fuchsia streamers hung from the ceiling and over every surface, with a row of balloons hanging downwards from the roof, and a couple dotting the floor. A big, homemade banner read in clumsy black kanji _**‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY PSYCHE!**_ ’, and to top it all off, a small inflatable slide and ball-pit were sitting in the middle of the living room, set-up and ready for Psyche to go crazy over.

Shinra had turned his life upside down with what he had done to him.

And right then, he couldn’t be more thankful.

“Shinra,” Izaya said, and the smile he directed at him was thankful and genuine. “This is amazing.”

“Really?” Shinra asked eagerly. “I wanted to go with a bounce house but Celty said it wouldn’t fit, so we got the slide and ball-pit instead. It’s our present for Psyche.”

_“All of this_ is amazing.” Izaya complimented. “Psyche is going to love it.” True to his words, the baby, who had been reaching upwards in a doomed attempt to reach the balloons, went stock still when he saw the slide, pink eyes widening with a matching smile.

SNAP

Izaya blinked, retinas momentarily overwhelmed, and he saw that Shinra had procured a camera from his coat, and had snapped a photograph. “Documenting this momentous occasion!” He informed joyfully.

Izaya moved over to the slide and ball-pit, knowing that waiting any longer would only frustrate Psyche. He sat on the floor beside the small set-up, and pointed at the slide with a flourish. “What’s that, Psyche-chan!?” He asked in an excited voice.

Psyche angled him a humorous look, as if to say _you know what it is, Mommy._

Izaya placed him carefully atop the slide, resolving to teach him how to use the tiny stairs soon. “You ready to go down?”

Psyche glanced downwards, appearing afraid suddenly, and Izaya realised how very big this must seem to a one year old.

_Still my baby._

He thought fondly.

“Do you want mommy to help you?” He questioned. Psyche kept staring down the slide dauntingly. “Let’s do it!” He cheered, guiding his son swiftly but safely down to the ball pit below, where he gained more confidence and began kicking his legs, grinning. “YAY! Go Psyche-chan!” He blinked again when Shinra took another set of shots, but ignored the irritating actions and focused on his son.

He felt so damned _happy_. Happy to see his baby happy.

_It’s hard to believe that just twelve months ago I didn’t have him in my life._

Psyche began crawling up the slide, and Izaya pulled him away gently. “No, darling. We go down the slide, not up. Mommy will show you.” Patiently, Izaya showed the steps to Psyche, helping him to climb upwards slowly. This time, he went down unaided, and Izaya clapped for him. “Good job, Psyche-chan!” He watched a few more times, and once he was sure Psyche was occupied, he joined Shinra on the couch. “He loves it. Thanks again, Shinra.”

“Anything for our little lovechild!” Shinra quipped. “Sooooo, about Shizuo-“

“Talking about it will just piss me off.” Izaya interrupted curtly. “He’s made it clear where his priorities lie.”

“You know he’s just doing what he thinks is best.” Shinra reprimanded mildly. “He loves you and Psyche more than anything. But at the same time, he wants to repay Tom for being so considerate with his working hours over the last year. You can’t blame him for that.”

Shinra had been reasonable.

“I guess you’re right.” Izaya admitted grudgingly. “But if he isn’t here on time, I’m going to flay him.”

“Speaking about time, I’m sure Celty will be here with the cake soon.” Shinra announced. “She’s picking it up from a nice little bakery near Raira High.”

“Is it-“

“It’s pink and white and in the shape of a music note.” Shinra interjected knowingly. “Does that suffice, Momzilla?”

Izaya turned a little pink himself. “That’s fine.” He was _not_ a momzilla. He just wanted Psyche’s first birthday to be memorable.

And it was. But for all the wrong reasons.

 

* * *

 

 

Psyche played very contently with the slide and ball-pit whilst Izaya unpacked all of the presents and loaded them on the dining table, Shinra cooked up some party snacks for the adults to eat (Izaya had already packed Psyche’s age-appropriate dinner) and Celty returned with the cake, non-verbally cooing over Psyche and taking a few more photos. She also changed him, monopolising those shadows to do real dirty work.

Izaya was envious. He wished he had shadows to change dirty diapers with. He only had his own hands (which had come into contact with unspeakable evils ever since Psyche was born) and Shizuo (who was hopeless with diapers and even put one on Psyche backwards once)

Shizuo may have been a present figure in Psyche’s life, but he often failed to do the small things Izaya did constantly. Not that it really mattered that much. He still contributed and that was better than nothing.

“Did you see Shizu-chan when you were out?” Izaya questioned the headless woman, noting the time on his phone. If Shizuo wasn’t there soon, they would have to start without him, otherwise Psyche would get tired and cranky and his birthday experience wouldn’t be enjoyable _at all_.

Celty tapped at her PDA with quick, practiced fingers. [No. I thought I might have, but he wasn’t around.] She tensed at Izaya’s venomous look. [I’m sure he’s going to be here! He probably just got caught up!]

“I’m not waiting around all night with Psyche miserable just so he can waltz in late.” Izaya told unwaveringly. “Ten minutes, and if he’s not here, we’re opening presents.”

Izaya was true to his word. When Shizuo didn’t arrive (and he felt horribly upset, although he didn’t show it. This was about Psyche, after all) they commenced in opening the presents, Izaya assisting Psyche in tearing through the thin paper. He had purchased Psyche an admittedly overt amount of gifts, with his favourite being (predictably) the music orientated ones, which included a baby xylophone, a tiny wooden guitar, a tambourine, and a plastic microphone which came with an adjustable stand. He knew he was spoiling the boy, but he couldn’t help it. Psyche was such a sweet, well-tempered baby, and as he never intended on having any more children, he thought indulging him was okay, as long as he made sure Psyche didn’t grow up to be a brat. Which, obviously, he _wouldn’t_ , because his Psyche-chan was a little darling.

To their benefit, Celty and Shinra were remarkably understanding about the whole affair, being respectful to Izaya’s wishes, and focusing their attention solely on Psyche and acting as if there was nothing wrong. No one missing. The little boy was the centre of attention, as he should be.

And Izaya “ooohhed” and “ahhhhed” and snuggled into the bemused baby that didn’t quite properly grasp why all of this was happening (How could he when he just turned one? He wasn’t a genius, although Izaya certainly thought he was an intelligent little boy)

Izaya unpacked a couple of presents that Psyche had taken a particular shining to, and the baby played with the toys and crawled about the floor, grasping at a balloon. He ate with Celty and Shinra, and fed Psyche his dinner in the highchair Shinra had purchased specifically for when he came to visit. The baby was a messy eater, but Izaya had long since stopped caring about being splattered with mashed vegetables. Sometimes Psyche did it purposefully, but Izaya never disciplined the little rascal. He was too cute when he got mischievous, he reminded him of himself, only Psyche held an innocence Izaya lacked.

Shizuo, of course, nearly always lost his temper, but he never raised a hand to the baby, merely berating him sternly. His strong voice alone usually got the waterworks going for Psyche, as Izaya hardly ever scolded him. Only when the baby endangered himself. Shizuo told him Psyche would grow up to be a cry-baby, but Izaya wasn’t going to worry about that.

Oftentimes it seemed like Shizuo was the critical parent. The father who was too hard on his son, and at times he was, but that was only because (and Izaya would never admit it aloud, or acknowledge it fully to himself) Izaya was the figure who was _too_ soft. He kissed and cuddled and coddled his son too much, pandering to his every need and fussing like a mother hen. Shizuo enforced the rules, gave Psyche boundaries, and would no doubt discipline their son when he got older (although Izaya didn’t know how. Hopefully it wasn’t some barbaric method) what one parent lacked, the other made up for, which was why Izaya thought they could continue functioning.

Thought. Unfortunately it didn’t end up that way.

“Time to sing Happy Birthday!” Izaya decided after mopping up Psyche’s messy face. “Then a bath and bedtime for you, sweetheart.”

For the first time since Izaya had started the ‘party’, Shinra and Celty both hesitated.

Izaya knew why. Singing happy birthday and eating the cake signified the official end of the party, which meant Shizuo had missed all of it, making him totally unredeemable in Izaya’s eyes. Izaya hadn’t even had the chance to worry about the brute, too caught up in his infuriation about the man missing all of Psyche’s birthday.

[We could wait a little longer.] Celty suggested. [I’m sure he’ll be here soon.]

“I’m just astounded he’s missing this.” Shinra voiced. “I thought he’d be here long before now. Do you think he’s caught up in something?”

[I really hope he’s okay.] Celty was concerned. [He’s been talking about Psyche’s birthday all week whenever I saw him at work. He seemed really excited.]

But Izaya didn’t soften. Psyche should always be the priority, and he doubted Shizuo was hurt or unwell. The brute probably just got caught up in something and was too noble or angry to walk away. That was all that was preventing him from being here.

Psyche gave an indicating yawn, and Izaya strode into the kitchen purposefully, removing the cake from its box and placing it on a nice plate. Shinra and Celty had chosen the right bakery. The cake was absolutely perfect, the icing and shape flawless.

He placed the plate on the table, and took Psyche from his highchair to be closer to the cake. The baby was instantly attracted to the bright colours (his favourite ones to boot) and tried to get at it with curious hands.

Shinra and Celty gracefully conceded defeat, and the glasses-wearing doctor fetched a sole candle in the shape of an English 1, sinking it deeply into the cake.

Celty returned from rifling in a high cabinet with a box of matches, and she lit up the candle.

The flame reflected in Psyche’s pinkish eyes, and Izaya nodded, an indication to begin singing, or, in the case of Celty, clapping her hands in tandem.

Psyche, much to Izaya’s adoration, copied the Dullahan, enjoying the singing.

Izaya was just singing the last few words when he caught a glimpse of familiar blonde hair out of the corner of his eye, and looked up to see Shizuo, unharmed as he had expected. Celty had left the door unlocked so he could let himself in, and he must have snuck inside whilst the apartment was filled with noise.

Izaya caught his eye very deliberately, narrowing his own orbs in a clear display of displeasure, before finishing off the song and encouraging Psyche to blow out the candle. Unsurprisingly, the baby didn’t quite understand, and Izaya ended up blowing it out for him, inciting dismay in Psyche, who had wanted to play with the flickering flame.

Celty summoned her shadows, fashioning a sharp blade, but Shinra shook his head wildly. “No Celty! I’ll just grab a regular kitchen knife!” He bustled into the kitchen, wisely refraining from commenting on Shizuo’s new arrival.

Celty though, was too worried to ignore him. She typed frantically. [Are you okay?]

“I’m fine.” Shizuo reassured quickly. “I just got caught up with something. Work related.” He added, as if Izaya thought that was a feasible excuse. “I had to leave late.” He looked directly at Izaya here, face soft. “I’m sorry I missed everything.”

Upon hearing Shizuo’s voice, Psyche looked away from the pretty cake. _“Dada!”_ He cried happily. He looked to Izaya, then back to Shizuo. _“Dada.”_ He repeated.

“Yes, Daddy…” Izaya drawled, with a sneer on his face. “It seems Daddy thought work was more important than celebrating his son’s special day.”

Predictably, this angered Shizuo immediately. “I said I was sorry!” He got out from gritted teeth. Izaya often wondered if they were as strong as the rest of his body, since they could withstand such clenching of his jaw.

“What was honestly so important?” Izaya cocked a hip, bouncing the baby up and down to keep him occupied whilst they argued.

“I had to rough up a few guys!” Shizuo defended. “But then it turned into a whole syndicate and Tom had difficulty getting the payment, so we had to track each of them down in Ikebukuro, and some of the bastards were hiding!”

“You missed our son’s birthday.” Izaya said, in a controlled voice filled with cold fury. “To play _hide and seek_?”

Shizuo scoffed. “You know it isn’t like that. I would have given everything to be here!”

“You could have continued your job tomorrow.” Izaya snapped, and Psyche’s lip began to wobble at the ice in his tone. “I’m not angry at you, Psyche-chan,” He said gently. “Mommy will give you some cake.”

Celty had quietly but competently put servings of the cake on plates whilst the two had been arguing. Shinra had left the room altogether, no doubt feeling like he was intruding.

This irked Izaya. Here Shinra and Celty were, hosting a fantastic party for Psyche, and he and Shizuo were making them feel uncomfortable in their own home.

“We will finish this discussion at home.” Izaya informed Shizuo sharply. “For now, just don’t talk to me. I can’t even stand to look at your face right now.” Harsh? Yes. But he had felt that way at the time.

Izaya forcefully turned away from the other man, picking up the colourful, plastic plate which was clearly meant for Psyche. The portion was a healthy size, and Izaya sat down with the baby in his lap, allowing him to messily munch on the cake with his hands. He could have put him in the highchair, but he needed Psyche’s comforting presence right now. That, and he was feeling rather protective.

He heard Shizuo give a growl, and stomp into the hall to compose himself. Celty followed after him, probably to offer calming words and support.

Shinra emerged from wherever he was hiding a minute or so later, looking weary. “Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh on him?” He asked, withstanding Izaya’s frigid glare without becoming frozen. “It sounds like he had no choice but to help Tom. You know he loves the both of you, so why hold a grudge? He would have been here if he could.”

“He _could_ have been here if he actually put his family first for once.” Izaya persisted stubbornly. “That anger and righteousness gets the better of him, and he feels the need to play hero. The only hero he should be playing for is Psyche.” Izaya had sacrificed his job (although he had actually started taking small ones again recently) and entire life for the baby, and it seemed unfair that Shizuo, who had played a vital role in Psyche’s creation, go on with his life mostly unchanged despite this whole baby business. Sometimes he felt that Shizuo wasn’t taking fatherhood seriously enough, and he believed Shizuo had proved that insecure thought true tonight.

“Izaya…” Shinra started, but then seemed to think better of protesting. “Would you like a cup of coffee or tea? We don’t want you getting dehydrated on the way home.”

“Yes thank you.” Izaya said in a short, courteous voice. “I’ll have green tea.” He preferred coffee, but green tea always helped calm him down…

Shinra hastened into the kitchen, and Izaya watched as Psyche played with his food, licking at the icing and squashing the vanilla cake underneath. He narrowed his eyes when Shizuo sat down opposite of the baby, clearly having appeased his temper.

“Hey buddy…” He said in a soft rumble.

Psyche looked up, and smiled, face covered in pink. _“Dada!”_

“Daddy’s very sorry he couldn’t be here for your birthday.” Shizuo apologised, and Izaya huffed, making sure the brute understood what he personally thought. “Did you open presents?”

Psyche cooed.

“Psyche-chan did open his presents.” Izaya said, but he couldn’t quite manage the perky tone he usually used when communicating with the pair. “Didn’t you, baby?”

“He loved the music orientated ones.” Shinra told, setting a cup of tea before Izaya. He pulled a plate of cake before himself, and spooned up a mouthful.

“He also liked the slide and ball-pit.” Izaya said. “Uncle Shinra and Auntie Celty got them for him. You went down the slide, didn’t you, Psyche-chan?”

“I wish I didn’t miss it.” Shizuo murmured.

“Try the cake.” Shinra recommended. “It’s very sweet. You’ll love it.”

There was nothing sweet about this situation to Izaya though. In fact it was overwhelmingly bitter, and by the time Celty and Shinra were waving them off, Izaya had lapsed into a seething silence, only speaking to the brute on the behalf of Psyche.

The brute pushed the stroller home, and Izaya cradled Psyche, whose eyes had started becoming heavy. When they were back in the apartment, Izaya was quick to give Psyche his bath, soothing him to sleep thereafter with a lullaby. As usual, whenever he tried to put the baby down in the crib, he stirred with a whine, grasping for his ‘mother’.

Shizuo put away all of the gifts in the appropriate places, grumbling about the excessive amount Izaya had insisted upon, and when Izaya was in the kitchen, rinsing out the containers that had held Psyche’s dinner one-handedly, Shizuo made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. “Are you gonna yell at me now, or what?” He looked to Izaya expectantly. “Let me hear it. I’ve been waiting ever since I got back from work.”

“I’m not going to yell.” Izaya shot down, dignified. “That will wake Psyche-chan and then I won’t be able to get him back to sleep.”

“He’s not a newborn anymore.” Shizuo pointed out grouchily. “He needs to learn to go to sleep without you holding him. What’s it called again? Self, self...”

“Self-settling.” Izaya educated. “And Psyche will be fine. He’s just not ready yet-“

“ _You’re_ not ready yet.” Shizuo corrected flatly. “You can’t keep babying him forever.”

“He’s not even a toddler yet, you heartless beast!” Izaya snapped. “Don’t criticise the way I parent my child when you can’t even attend his birthday party!”

And Shizuo felt horribly guilty. Lower than scum, and he was frustrated that Izaya kept trying to make him feel worse. Vilify him further when all he wanted to do was make up. This frustration made him lash out, one of the biggest mistakes of his life. “It’s not like he’ll remember it anyway!” He snarled his reply. “He’s only fucking one, Izaya!”

“Keep your voice down!” Izaya hissed. “You’ll wake him up!”

But Shizuo had been too enraged to care. He’d been trying his best to be a good father, trying his best to be a good partner for Izaya, and he loved them so much, but god, did he-

“ _ **Hate**_ you!” Shizuo said in a raised voice. “I fucking _hate_ your guts, you damn flea! I wish I never had to deal with you and your shit!”

Izaya had crackled with electricity. “Are you calling Psyche _shit!_?”

“I’m saying he’s _exactly_ like you.” Shizuo spat, regretting every word that came out of his mouth, but helpless to stop the furious rush. “He looks exactly like you, he acts like some warped version of you, and he’s done nothing but make my life miserable! So yeah, he’s _exactly_ fucking like you, just a miniature flea!”

Izaya’s burgundy eyes had widened in utter shock. He knew Shizuo was angry, but to say something so horrible about Psyche, an innocent child who shouldn’t be blamed for Izaya’s actions…

He forced down the potent hurt, and replaced it with unyielding resolution.

“If that’s how you really feel.” Izaya’s voice had wavered slightly. “Then leave.” He dropped the soaked washcloth into the sink and adjusted his hold on Psyche, so he didn’t have to look Shizuo in the face. “I don’t want Psyche to grow up being hated just because he reminds you of me.”

“FINE!” Shizuo bellowed, making Psyche wake up with a start. “You can fuck off with that little bastard for all I care!” Then he turned on his heel, storming out of the apartment and slamming the door behind him, feeling wretched all the while.

Izaya trembled when he was gone, but forced himself into composure, rocking the baby that had begun bawling at the loud noise.

_If he’s going to be like that…I can’t stay with him._

It had been fun while it lasted.

Encouraged by Shizuo’s words, Izaya shakily pulled out his cell phone, flipping it open and dialling a familiar number. It was answered on the third ring. “Hello there, Mr Shiki. About that job opportunity you told me about…”

He needed to get away. He needed to start a new life somewhere. A place where no one knew him, where no one could hurt Psyche to get to him, a new place where he was just a regular single-parent doing his best to give his son the best life possible.

He loved Tokyo. But he needed to do this for his son’s benefit.

 

* * *

 

 

When Shizuo came back a few days later, ready to grovel on his stomach for forgiveness, any trace of Izaya and Psyche had been erased. The two had simply disappeared. The apartment packed up, all of Psyche’s toys gone, and the only piece of furniture that remained was the couch. There was no note (Izaya was smarter than that). No indication as to where they had gone, and no method of communication. All of the cell phones Shizuo knew Izaya had were shut down, and Namie Yagiri had seemingly vanished.

Shinra and Celty, whose home he had been crashing in, had not been contacted, and they were understandably shattered to hear Izaya had upped and left without a single word.

They searched for months, but even through their respective channels they found nothing. The best Shinra had found was that Namie Yagiri had boarded a plane to Hawaii, but that had served as nothing but a red herring, likely devised by Izaya to keep them off his real trail. Celty heard from a high-schooler that Izaya had entered a place known to be popular with the Awakusu the day after Psyche’s birthday, and that led Shizuo to realise the other male had likely been speaking with Shiki, who Shizuo had come to know was his most common client. But tracking down Shiki had been impossible, even after speaking with other members of the Awakusu, as he had seemingly departed with Izaya and another executive without a word to anyone else.

It made Shizuo feel the severest form of dread. What if Izaya was getting himself into something dangerous, just so he could get away from Shizuo? If he or Psyche got hurt, he would never be able to forgive himself…

He didn’t have the money to go traversing the world for Izaya, as much as he would have liked to. Nor did he speak a word of another language to properly communicate.

So he kept on living, alone in a cramped new apartment, without the sound of Izaya singing and Psyche’s adoring coos and giggles. He lurched into a self-loathing depression, and he would have given _**anything** _ to see them again. Psyche would probably be toddling around now, speaking more words, did he even remember _Daddy_ anymore? He hated himself for what he had done.

Celty had been a godsend. She comforted him during these times, patting his shoulder and sitting with him whenever he was lonely. Shinra was good as well, but his overly cheerful disposition was often too much for him at times. They told him he shouldn’t shoulder all of the blame himself, and that Izaya had done the wrong thing by disappearing the way he did. But they didn’t see, the way Izaya had reacted when Shizuo had said such awful things about their son, it had been devastating.

Heat of the moment or not, it was inexcusable.

Then, a few months later, a postcard came. It was stuck underneath his door, and when he picked it up with a muted sense of curiosity, he saw a picture of the Eiffel Tower gleaming on the front, and when he flipped to the back, he saw Izaya’s perfect handwriting. It was a short, concise message, with cold wording.

** _Shizuo,_ **

It read.

**_Your bastard child and unwanted baby mama are doing fine. If you care._ **

And he wasn’t annoyed. He was remarkably relieved. Izaya was still angry at him, but he had the decency to let Shizuo know they were both safe.

It was more than he deserved.

Shizuo wanted to write back, to send a dozen pages of apologises and questions and pleading, but there was no return address, and even though that postcard was from France, Shizuo knew better than to think Izaya was still there. If he ever was, at all. It would be just like the crafty informant to send a postcard from a place he’d never even visited before.

That, or he’d already been and was sending the postcard delayed. And really thinking about it, who had put that postcard under the door? How did Izaya know where he was living?

He wasn’t even in Tokyo, yet he still seemed to know everything.

It turned out Celty and Shinra had received the exact same postcard, but with a more hospitable message.

_**To Uncle Shinra and Aunty Celty** _

_**Psyche-chan loves and misses you very much.** _

_**Don’t worry about us. We’re fine. There’s no need to come searching. We’re happy and we’re safe.** _

_**Regards,** _

_**Psyche-chan and Izaya Orihara** _

When Shizuo had read that message, he had heaved a momentous sigh of relief. They were _happy._ He hated the thought of the pair being miserable as they trekked the world to avoid him. But….

Jealousy. Envy. They swam in his system toxically. His baby and his boyfriend (He still refused to categorise Izaya as an ex. They were going to get back together when he manned up and returned home) were off experiencing fantastical new things, and he was stuck here, feeling their absence in a biting sting that never faded and with a heavy ache in his heart.

“We can try.” Shinra had offered to Shizuo, serious for once. “If I know Izaya, he wouldn’t have been able to avoid the glamour of Paris. I doubt he’s still there, but if we go, we might be able to find some trace of him. A clue to as where he went next.”

[We can pay for you, Shizuo.] Celty supported. [We honestly don’t mind.]

And it was tempting. But although Shinra knew Izaya, Shizuo had come to understand him more in their time together. “If he doesn’t want to be found, he isn’t going to be.” Admitting it was hard, but he kept going. “He’s good at running, and if he’s still with those two Awakusu, they’re helping him remain hidden.”

“We can still try-“

“I DON’T WANT TO TRY ANYMORE!” Shizuo shouted, thoroughly fed-up, and his eyes were feeling uncomfortably wet. “There’s no goddamned point. He’s not coming back, and I can’t find him. You both know it’s true, so please…”

Celty wrapped a companionable arm around his shoulder, and Shinra’s glasses suddenly seemed a little foggy.

Celty tapped at her PDA slowly, clearly contemplating her response. [I just don’t want you to give up, Shizuo. I understand if you don’t want to look for them, but don’t you ever give up on Psyche or Izaya.]

Shizuo took a ragged breath. “I know…” He said. “I know.”

He kept living. Years passed, and he brought a nicer apartment. One big enough to comfortably host a child, and a beautiful window that overlooked the world below for a certain raven haired man. He got a postcard every couple of months, and tacked them onto the refrigerator, to gaze at hopefully every morning when he gulped down his milk.

Ikebukuro went on without Izaya. Kids concluded high school and went on to university, and The Dollars kept up their wacky antics. Shizuo had to threaten less and less people for Tom, and soon he was receiving a higher paycheck and getting much more time off. It would have been perfect for raising Psyche. But he wasn’t here. And either was his mother.

Psyche would be four now. His birthday coming not that long ago. Shizuo didn’t even know what he _looked_ like, but if he hadn’t changed much from his infancy, he would be just like his mother.

It used to irk him that Psyche inherited so much from Izaya, but now he realised it shouldn’t matter. Why should it matter if his child inherited traits from the man Shizuo loved most in the world? That should only serve to make Shizuo love the both of them even more.

It had been so hard. But things were bound to get better, right? One day Izaya would come home, and they _**would**_ be a family again. Shizuo would make sure of it. He would do anything to make it happen.

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche muses on his mother, and Izaya prepares for a daunting return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thanks to everyone who gave kudos and left reviews on this story. It really inspired me to keep on writing. 
> 
> The chapter I am posting isn't as long as the first one, as it serves the purpose of explaining what Izaya and Psyche have been doing whilst absent from Tokyo. It begins with Psyche's POV, as I wanted to give some insight into how he was feeling :)
> 
> A WARNING: I am by no means an expert on children, and if Psyche seems a little advanced for his age, I apologize. However, I can definitely see him being quite clever, since he's the offspring of Izaya, and all. 
> 
> (SPOILER) To anyone who thinks this might seem a little rushed (and who want to read more adorable baby Psyche) the following chapters will have flashbacks featuring him. 
> 
> Please enjoy reading.

 

* * *

 

“Mommy I like Russia.” A sweet, yet unusually petulant, voice said. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I know baby.” His ‘mother’ cooed softly, running a hand through his raven hair. “But it’ll only be for six months. Then we can go wherever you want.”

Psyche, despite having recently turned four, was not embarrassed by such terms of endearment. His mother had called him nicknames his entire life, and he actually liked hearing them. It made him feel special. His mother never used nicknames on anyone else. “Wherever I want?” He bared straight, sparkling teeth in an excited grin. “You’ll take me wherever I want?”

“That is what I said.” Izaya confirmed. “Within reason, of course. Nowhere dangerous or violent.”

Psyche bounced up and down happily. “YAY! You’re the best, Mommy!” He cheered.

Izaya smiled at Psyche gently, and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. “Just promise me you’ll think your decision through, okay? We don’t want to be living somewhere you get bored of.”

Alas, like his mother, Psyche tended to get bored rather easily, and travelling his whole life certainly hadn’t helped matters. By the time Psyche was growing bored they were bustling along to a new place, so he didn’t have to experience it very long.

“What about Australia!?” Psyche enthused. “We can go surfing!”

Izaya laughed, a dulcet, indulgent sound. “We’ll see, Psyche-chan.”

“There’s lots of spiders and snakes there!” Psyche went on babbling, as Izaya flicked through their passports. “But I would protect you, Mom!”

“My big brave boy.” Izaya commented. “If you can face snakes and spiders, you’ll definitely be fine in Tokyo.”

Psyche soured somewhat at the reminder of his new home for the next sixth months. His mommy had always said how pretty it was, with the city lights and the bustling streets. His mommy had grew up in Tokyo, and Psyche knew by the way he smiled when speaking about Tokyo that his mommy had loved being in Japan. Psyche thought Japan sounded like fun, and he was excited about meeting his Uncle Shinra and Aunt Celty (his mom always said ‘seeing’ but Psyche couldn’t remember them from when he was little) he also wanted to be introduced to his other aunts, Mairu and Kururi who his mommy seemed so hesitant about. Namie-chan said his mommy was ‘awkward’ around his other aunts, but Psyche didn’t really understood what that meant.

Psyche associated only nice words with his mommy. His mommy was kind and gentle, always played with him, and, usually, always gave him what he wanted.

Mr Shiki and Akabayashi (who Psyche usually called grandpa and gramps) always told him his mommy spoiled him, and that he needed to be a good little boy who didn’t throw tantrums.

Psyche didn’t often throw tantrums or misbehave, only when he was really unhappy and he couldn’t control his feelings. His mommy always calmed him down then, gave him lots of cuddles and gave him a glass of strawberry milk. Milk was Psyche’s favourite thing to drink, and he liked strawberry the most because it was pink. Mommy had told him once he was like Shizu-chan, the man Psyche knew was his father. Psyche had refused to drink milk for a week after that. He didn’t like his father. Which was a _big_ deal, because he liked everyone! He was very innocent and cheerful, and his mommy sometimes scolded him for being ‘too trusting’ around strangers. But just the thought of his father made Psyche feel irritated. His mommy didn’t speak of him often, but when he did, he always wore a sad face, and Psyche didn’t like anything, or anyone who made his mommy sad! Even if it was his father.

When he was smaller, he had asked Namie-chan why his mommy never talked about his daddy, and Namie-chan had told him in her brutally honest way that his daddy had broken his mommy’s heart, and said that he didn’t want either of them, and his mommy had decided to leave Ikebukuro with him. But Namie-chan had said it didn’t matter, that he had his grandpa’s and her, and that his mommy loved him in a way he had never loved anything else before. This made Psyche happy, and he had resolved not to care about his father, even though he sometimes felt sad when he saw daddies and mommies holding hands and kissing. He knew that his mommy was different to other mommies, and sometimes people gave him strange looks when he called his mommy ‘mommy’, but that didn’t really matter to him. He didn’t care what they thought.

“Hey now,” His mommy suddenly said, and Psyche looked up from the patch of carpet he had been glaring at. “What’s that cranky expression for?” He could see his mommy was worried, his reddish eyes searching.

Psyche thought his mommy was the most beautiful person on the planet. Even more beautiful than Namie-chan, and Namie-chan was always being approached by men when they travelled. His mommy had smooth skin that always smelt soothing, and a pretty face with interesting coloured eyes. He was smallish and slender, and the more Psyche grew, the more Namie-chan said he looked like him.

“Are you nervous?” His mommy was lightly frowning. “Psyche-chan?”

“I don’t want to see _him_.” He always said ‘him’ with as much vehemence as he could muster.

His mother sighed. “Sweetheart, I know you don’t want to see your father, but there’ll be no choice. We’ll be staying in Shinjuku for six months, and he’ll want to visit.”

Psyche didn’t like that prospect. He didn’t want his mommy to be around _him_. He wanted his mommy to be happy, and not cry like the few times Psyche had glimpsed him at night. His father had broken his mommy’s heart, and he wanted to protect him from that hurt. Protect his mommy the same way his mommy protected him from monsters and thunder storms. “He’ll hurt you, Mommy.”

His mommy appeared taken-aback at this statement, and turned his face away for a moment. When he turned back around, his face was relaxed. “Psyche-chan, he’s not going to hurt me. Your father isn’t like that. Besides,” He winked at Psyche playfully. “Your mommy can go toe-to-toe with him.”

Psyche was doubtful. He knew his mommy carried around knives, but he had never actually seem him use them. He wasn’t allowed to go with his mommy when he went out with his grandpa’s. He had to stay with Namie-chan. Gramps (Akayabashi) said that his father was really strong, real tough, and beat people up for a living. He didn’t want _him_ trying to hit or push around his mommy. “Mommy, I’ll protect you.” He vowed, jutting out his slightly pointed chin.

“Oh Psyche-chan…” His mommy shook his head in dismay. “Mommy doesn’t need protection.”

“Maybe Gramps or Grampa can give me a weapon.” Psyche mused, and his mother shook his head violently.

“Absolutely not!” He said firmly. “That’s how little boys get hurt, Psyche.”

“But you-“

“Mommy is an adult.” He interrupted.

“Does that mean when I’m grown up-“

“No.”

“But-“

“No buts, Psyche.” His mommy said, in his seldom used bossy voice. “You’re Mommy’s baby. I don’t want to think of you running around with weapons. Now, go fetch your coat. We’re going to have a snow fight.”

Psyche brightened at this. He loved having snow fights with his mommy. His mommy could toss them a very long way, and sometimes, when there was no one else around, they would hide and throw them at people his mommy pointed out. The pair would giggle into their hands as the unlucky person looked about confusedly, and his mommy would sometimes shush Psyche when he got a little too loud.

This, of course, strengthened Psyche’s playful streak, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to get up to mischief. And his mommy, much to his grandpa’s perturbation, always found it funny.

Psyche grabbed his coat from his toy-packed bedroom, which was filled to the brim with the spoils of their travelling. He ran out into the foyer, where his mommy was waiting under an elaborate chandelier that he thought looked like super cool icicles hanging from a frosty ceiling. His mommy was dressed in a thicker version of the jacket he usually wore in warmer places, and he accepted the coat from Psyche. “Arms out.” He instructed, and Psyche shrugged the bulky white coat over his small shoulders. It made him feel like an Eskimo, but it kept him warm in the freezing Russian air. His mommy fussed over him for a moment, checking that the coat was fitting properly and wrapping a scarf around his neck. Psyche was already wearing his gloves from when he last played in the garden.

As he walked out the front door, his mommy firmly grasping his hand, he realised he was really going to miss this house. He had lived in lots of places, apartments, hotel rooms, even a shack when they were in Seychelles, but he liked the houses the best. They had lots of space to run around, and he didn’t have to worry about being noisy. He really loved the gardens in this house as well, and to him it felt like a castle. Namie-chan had called it ‘overly luxurious and expensive’.

His mommy led him down the footpath and out the gate, and together they waded through the snow to the park, where many children were playing with their parents and siblings. His mommy had once asked him if he felt upset about not having a little brother or sister. He’d proudly proclaimed no, of course! All he needed was his mommy. This had made his mommy light up in happiness, and he’d smothered him with kisses.

But…

Psyche watched as a gruff looking father patted his son on the head, praising him for his good work on making a snowman, whilst his nearby wife smiled. _That_ was what he sometimes felt upset over. He’d never seen his mommy smile at a person that same way, they were always sharp, as if he were warning them off.

_Mommy doesn’t need a man._

He thought to himself resolutely.

_All Mommy needs is me._

His mommy squeezed his hand, before releasing. “Would you like to play with the other children, Psyche-chan?”

Psyche cocked his head, considering. Language wasn’t a barrier for him, he knew how to speak Russian fluently, as well as English. He also knew pieces of other languages, having picked them up over his years travelling. If he wanted, he could play tag with those kids, build a snowman together, or go on one of their sleds…

And leave his mommy to sit on a bench alone? Watching all the other mommy’s and daddy’s together and feeling sad?

Psyche preferred to play with his mother. The other kids didn’t understand his games, anyway…

“I wanna play with you!” He beamed upwards. “Let’s have a snow ball fight! Can we sing our battle song?” Psyche liked singing songs, and his mommy found ways to fit singing into all of their games just for him.

“Of course!” His mommy huffed, pretending to be angry. “How could you presume otherwise? No battle is real without a good battle song!” Psyche giggled. His mommy was so funny. “But let’s sing in Japanese, okay? I don’t want you out of practice.”

Psyche rolled his eyes, an action his gramps and grandpa both would have chided him for. “I haven’t forgotten, Mommy. I speak Japanese with Namie-chan all of the time.”

“I know that sweetheart. But Namie-chan has been gone for a couple of months organising everything for us. You can do it, can’t you? For mommy?”

“Of course I can!” Psyche said.

“Thank you. Now which one do you want to sing?”

“The happy one!”

“Of course you do.”

 

* * *

 

 

Psyche was just like him.

In many ways.

But _**so**_ much better.

Psyche was a beautiful gift.

Izaya loved him so much it _hurt_ , and even at four, he remained his baby.

It hadn’t been easy travelling all over the world with a baby, even with the benefits of first class flying and all the comforts money could buy. Izaya had everything he needed to make it work, but it had still been difficult. He worried Psyche would grow up deprived, but was left immensely relieved when his child thrived in the exciting environment.

It turned out Psyche was perfectly fine, as long as he was with his ‘mother’.

Gradually, Psyche had grown comfortable enough with the familiar faces of Shiki, Akabayashi, and, for the most part, Namie. The woman was like a travelling nanny, only she was likely to fly off any moment for some Seji related matter. She had actually left Psyche alone once, when he was two. Izaya came back home from a job to see the toddler bawling on the floor, surrounded by a broken vase. Needless to say, he had been hysterical, scooping Psyche up and working himself into a big panic.

Akabayashi and Shiki had been staying in the same apartment, and the red-haired male had calmly swept up the mess, whilst Shiki attempted to calm down the stressed informant. The two men could have just avoided him, but even their hardened hearts had eventually melted when confronted with sweet, sunny Psyche. Izaya even got away with teasingly referring to them as “Gramps” and “Grandpa”, although Shiki had seriously looked like he was considering shooting Izaya the first time he’d done it.

He’d been nervous about the two travelling with them. Although they weren’t the type to hurt children, they were still Awakusu executives. But their presence had been in the job description. The two executives would travel from country to country, staying in each place for certain amounts of time, doing work for the Awakusu, and making connections. Izaya was merely a pretty little bonus. He came to help the process along, the infallible informant, capable of digging up any piece of information, helping these new faces in return for their loyalty. The Awakusu was extending their reach, and he was one of their poster boys. Chosen for both his talent, and his knack of grasping languages quickly.

Shiki had flat-out refused to have a baby along at first. It didn’t surprise the man that Shinra had done something so damn _freaky_ to Izaya (although it had surprised him how dedicated the typically solitary informant was to the baby) but he didn’t approve of subjecting a baby to this kind of living. A baby needed stability, he’d said. A home to grow up in.

And Izaya had told him, face pale and eyes tired. _“What if he can’t have that here?”_ He didn’t plead or grovel. He hadn’t needed to. Shiki had acquiesced without the effort, on the condition that he bring someone else to look after the child when Izaya had to work.

Izaya had smirked, but it was weak compared to his usual ones. “Way ahead of you there, Mr Shiki. I don’t know if you’ve met Miss Yagiri, but she’s an extremely competent woman. I’ll pay for all of her expenses.”

He hadn’t expected Namie to concede easily when he’d told her his plainly absurd idea, but surprisingly, she seemed to want to leave Japan for a while, as long as she could fly back whenever she needed. He had a suspicion she might have been plummeting into a depression over Seji (frankly disturbing) but he hadn’t pushed. He’d just been glad she agreed, it would have been hell to find someone else suitable. Fortunately, she seemed to understand how babies worked, and didn’t complain about Psyche, although she did gripe constantly about Izaya’s parenting methods.

Apparently he was too soft.

She sounded _just_ like Shizuo.

It had been borderline painful in those first few months of leaving the man. Psyche would ask for his father confusedly, wondering where he had gone. It was wrong of him, but Izaya had been overjoyed when Psyche slowly forgot about the man. It was hard being reminded of everything they had lost, that apparently their beautiful child was a _bastard_ , a _mini-flea_. He’d always thought Shizuo truly loved Psyche. Apparently he’d been wrong.

But despite that sweltering fury, he’d sent the postcards. Even though he loathed himself for doing it, he knew it was necessary. It would appease the man, keep him away, and deep down, he _had_ to acknowledge that Shizuo was Psyche’s father, he deserved to know their son was safe and healthy.

_And that’s all that fucking monster deserves to know._

His infuriation hadn’t waned any, he’d just gotten better at hiding it.

He never wanted to show Psyche that angry side of him, and as difficult as it was at times, he had to be responsible. He refrained from mentioning Shizuo, let alone badmouthing him, and aside from the offhand comment here and there, Psyche never heard much about his father. And, to Izaya’s pleasure, he never wanted to talk about him either.

Izaya wasn’t an imbecile, he knew Psyche hadn’t formed such a low opinion of his father unaided. He was too sweet a boy for that. Namie had likely said something, or he’d put it together himself by observing Izaya’s reactions whenever the man was brought up. Psyche may have been easily distracted at times, but he was very intelligent.

Too intelligent for his own good.

But Izaya loved everything about his little boy, even his vaguely irritating obsession with singing and music. Sometimes, it would have been nice to bask in silence after a day of working, but silence wasn’t something heard when Psyche was around. It was one of the reasons the Awakusu executives were so insistent on paying for Izaya’s own place whenever they moved.

If Psyche wasn’t singing or playing with his instruments, he was blaring music on his CD player. Izaya planned to buy him a good pair of headphones soon, as the boy loved the headsets they provided on planes. Probably an iPod or MP3 player as well…

“Mmmm…” A sleepy murmur was heard, and Izaya looked down at the small figure that was snuggled up to his side. Psyche, like his mother, was a relatively light sleeper.

Izaya hummed to him softly, stroking his hair with a light touch. Immediately, the boy settled down, falling back into sleep. Izaya had attempted to move his numb arm, but Psyche had begun stirring immediately.

He knew Psyche was considered too old to be sleeping with his parent, but it was a habit they both indulged in. Psyche liked the comforting presence of his mother, and Izaya loved having him close. This habit had stemmed from his earliest years, when Izaya hadn’t wanted to put him in the crib for fear he’d cry. Psyche had his own bed, but it was coated with toys. Even when Namie or Shiki watched over him (never Akabayashi, Izaya didn’t trust that man to babysit him. God knows what he told Psyche when they were alone together) he always went to sleep in Izaya’s bed, although he had a habit of keeping himself awake until Izaya returned home.

Then he would sloppily pretend to be asleep, breathing too erratically and twitching despite his attempts to stay still. Izaya just went along with it, kissing his son on the forehead and whispering “Goodnight Psyche-chan” just like he always promised to do when he had to work late. Psyche wouldn’t be able to hold back a contented smile, and Izaya would climb into bed, the two drifting off to sleep together.

It would be the same when they moved back to Tokyo.

Izaya didn’t want to do it, he’d argued with the Awakusu executives over it when Psyche was playing, but the decision was final. He hadn’t been travelling simply for pleasure, and now it was time to return home for an obligatory six months. Shiki and Akabayashi intended on staying for a year, but Izaya was going to leave for somewhere different after that. Take the last six months off somewhere of Psyche’s choosing. A vacation for the both of them. No Namie, no Shiki and Akabayashi, just mother and son. He had enough money saved up to do it, and once time was up he’d continue travelling with the others.

He dreaded returning home, but he had to be brave for Psyche. There was no choice in the matter, and if he defied the Awakusu after reaping the benefits of their money, he’d be in a load of trouble.

He’d always known he’d have to go back eventually, but actually doing it was much harder than accepting it. Izaya Orihara was no fool, the moment he was back in town and rumour spread (and he knew all too well how quick _that_ could happen) Shizuo would be banging down his apartment door demanding to see Psyche, whether he felt any love for their son or not. That was just the kind of person the brute was.

And he didn’t want to scare Psyche. He didn’t want his baby to be frightened. So to prevent such an occurrence, he had to grit his teeth and make the first contact. He’d organise a time for the brute to visit the Shinjuku apartment (which he had been keeping vacant for Namie to use, and for when this time inevitably came) and then he could be, under Izaya’s strict supervision, re-introduced to Psyche.

But he’d be making it clear. In six months, they **_would_** be leaving, with or without Shizuo’s blessing. That monster couldn’t stop him from making the right decisions. He was doing what was best for Psyche.

_It’s going to be difficult being polite to Shizu-chan around Psyche. I’ll manage it though. I have no other choice. I have to do this for my son._

But first, he’d get in touch with Shinra and Celty. He’d continued sending them postcards as well, often scribbling down messages Psyche wanted to tell them. He was expecting a disappointed rant on the behalf of Shinra, but he comforted himself with the fact that that weird doctor couldn’t maintain anger for long. He’d bluster himself out in a matter of minutes, and then be thrilled to have Izaya back in Tokyo again.

Celty may or may not try to punch him when she sees him again. Hopefully she wouldn’t around Psyche. The boy already felt dislike for his father, it wouldn’t do for him to form negative opinions about anyone else as well. He was sensitive, and such an occurrence would make him miserable.

Resolving to make the call tomorrow, Izaya placed down the phone he had been fidgeting with, undergoing the familiar routine of sleeping with a leech attached to his side.

 

* * *

 

 

“Make sure you’re courteous.” Izaya told his son, who was beaming brightly. “And speak slowly so Uncle Shinra understands.”

“I will Mom! Promise!”

Yes. He was a coward.

After spending the day preparing for their return home, he was exhausted, and _really_ not in the mood to listening to Shinra ramble at him. So, to prevent such a thing, he had decided to have Psyche talk to him first instead. Shinra would never get mad at him, and by the time Psyche had finished blabbering and Izaya spoke into the phone Shinra would have forgotten all about his anger in the midst of his new elation.

Izaya pressed the call button and put the phone on speaker, handing over one of his numerous cell phones to Psyche. The boy held it to his ear excitedly, practically quivering with anticipation. Izaya had always given Shinra and Celty a glowing review to Psyche. They’d helped him a lot through the pregnancy (although Shinra had been the one who made it possible in the first place) and they’d doted on Psyche like he was legitimately their nephew.

Psyche loved hearing about them. He often requested Izaya tell the story of how his mythical aunt and clever uncle met, and Izaya always made it sound very magical and romantic, so his son at least _knew_ how those relationships were meant to work.

Not that Shinra and Celty where what you would consider traditionally conventional, but they were close enough. They loved one another deeply, and that was the example he wanted to set for Psyche.

“Do you think he’ll remember me, Mommy?” Psyche questioned, eyes round and hopeful.

“Of course not.” Izaya denied. “He and your aunt Celty would never forget you. Do you remember how Mommy said Aunty Celty used to entertain you?”

“She used to use her awesome shadows to make shows for me!” Psyche recalled faultlessly. He had a good memory, although Izaya _had_ repeated that a lot. The Dullahan had contorted her black smoke into the shapes of animals, and Psyche had giggled and clapped.

“And what did Uncle Shinra do for you on your birthday?”

“He decorated their apartment in my favorite colors and blew me up balloons and gave me a slide and ball-pit and a really yummy cake!” Psyche was beaming brightly, and Izaya mused that his son had to be the cutest kid _ever._

Before he could say another word though, the ringing stopped, and a voice Izaya hadn’t heard for four years was speaking through the speaker. _“Doctor Kishitani speaking.”_

Psyche opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was uncharacteristically silent.

Izaya wrapped an arm around him supportively, and Psyche regained his confidence, leaning heavily against his mother. “Hi Uncle Shinra!” He greeted loudly.

There was a clattering sound, and a long silence as the pair heard grappling.

_Seriously Shinra? Dropping the phone?_

_“-Um, I, goodness gracious, Psyche, is that you!?”_ Shinra’s voice almost tinged on pleading. _“Please, let it be you. Otherwise this will be a real lousy trick…”_

“It’s me!” Psyche said quickly. “I’m not tricking you!”

_“Does Izaya, I mean your **mother** know you’re calling me?”_

Psyche nodded vigorously, before remembering Shinra couldn’t see him. “Yep! He’s the one who said I could!”

_“You’re lucky I’m a night owl. Judging by the fact you’re calling at this time, I’m going to take a wild guess and assume your mother’s taken you to Russia.”_

_**“Da.”**_ Psyche said, transitioning into Russian flawlessly. He’d been told to speak in Japanese, as Shinra wasn’t familiar with the Russian language. “Mommy and I have been in Russia for a while now. In a big house that’s all high ceilinged and with a big bedroom and humongous garden! Mommy lets me play music, and when I turn the player up the whole house echoes!” Psyche blabbered quite contently to Shinra, his nervousness very much absent.

_“It sounds like you still love your music, Psyche. Is Mommy with you right now?”_

_Oh no, Shinra. I can hear that thinly veiled irritation in your voice._

Whispering in a barely audible voice, Izaya spoke to his son. “Psyche-chan, why don’t you give Uncle Shinra a demonstration of your lovely singing voice?”

Psyche’s pink eyes sparkled at this. “Uncle Shinra, can I sing you a song? I really like this Russian lullaby that Mommy taught me and I’ve been practicing real hard to remember all of the words!”

_“I, well, of course you can!”_

Izaya couldn’t repress a smirk. He still had it.

Psyche began singing in his high, childlike voice, and Izaya encouraged him along with smiles and nods and the odd kiss on the cheek. He had such a lovely voice…

When Psyche finished his final verse, the dulled sound of Shinra applauding was heard, and Psyche bounced up and down.

_“You have a beautiful voice, Psyche. I wish I could hear it in person. Now, about your mo-“_

_Perfect opening._

“Go ahead and tell him sweetheart.”

“You can hear it in person!” Psyche interjected.

_“R-really? What are you saying, Psyche?”_

“We’re coming to Tokyo!”

_“WHAT? Oh my, this is amazing! Psyche, your mother, where is-“_

Izaya gestured for the phone, and Psyche gladly handed it over. For precautions sake, he took it off speaker. “Hello there Shinra. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

_“Are you really coming home!?”_

“Just for sixth months.” Izaya said firmly, not wanting there to be any misconceptions. “But yes, we will be coming back to Tokyo.”

_“How soon?”_

“Two days.”

_“IZAYA! You should have called sooner! Well, you can stay with Celty and I, of course. I know Psyche will be a bit bigger now, but we can manage to squeeze you in.”_

Izaya snorted. “You guys still live in the same place, right?”

_“Yes.”_

“There is absolutely no way Psyche-chan could fit all of his toys in that apartment.”

_“I see you haven’t changed, then.”_

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

_“I bet that kid still sleeps in your arms.”_

**“No.”**

_Okay, maybe sometimes. But he tends to stay at my side usually._

“Not,” Izaya continued loftily. “That there would be any problem with that.”

_There could never be a problem with my Psyche-chan._

_“Is he even toilet-trained?”_ Shinra’s voice was amused.

“Of course he is!” Izaya said, scandalised. “What kind of parent do you think I am!?”

_“The kind that’s still fiercely protective of his child. I’m glad, Izaya.”_

Izaya sighed, and wasn’t able to deny it was really nice to speak to his old friend. He had missed his goofiness, and even his rants about his Dullahan lover. Shiki and Akabayashi were never unpleasant (although Namie certainly could be) but it was refreshing to hear from someone who spoke in such a happy voice.

Psyche looked at him questioningly, and Izaya flashed him a practiced smile. “It really is just for six months.” He reminded, worried the man might forget in his excitement. “And you don’t need to fret about anything. Namie has been getting my old apartment in Shinjuku ready for when we arrive.”

_“But you only have one bedroom-“_

“Psyche and I can share.” Izaya said determinedly.

_“And his toys?”_

“Namie’s having additional storage furniture installed. We’ll send off our belongings tomorrow, and then all I need to do is unpack when we move back in.”

_“Still a control freak as well, I see.”_

“Ne, Shinra, so mean~”

_“Speaking of mean-“_

“I think Psyche-chan needs me for something. We’ll talk tomorrow at a more reasonable time. I fully anticipate a warm welcome when my baby and I come to visit soon~”

_“Celty is going to be so excited. Oh, and Shizuo, he’s been waiting for this, waiting for **you-** “_

“We’ll talk about Shizu-chan later.” Izaya snapped, before he could help himself. Psyche was now looking at him with those big, worried eyes, and he felt like a terrible parent. “Look Shinra,” Izaya lowered his voice, turning away from Psyche. “We haven’t talked in years, so I’ll forgive you for not knowing, but Psyche has, well, he has _issues_ with his father.”

_“That’s surprising.”_

“It’s quite astounding how you can fit so much sarcasm into two words.”

Shinra needed to know that Izaya hadn’t deliberately done this to Psyche. That he hadn’t spewed venomous words into Psyche’s ear to make him hate Shizuo. The man was Psyche’s _father_ , and if they had to have a relationship, he wanted it to at least be amicable.

But he couldn’t say that now. Izaya could see Psyche visibly eavesdropping from the corner of his eye, and this conversation was not suitable for innocent little ears.

“I will talk to you tomorrow.” Izaya promised. “Until then, don’t breathe a word of this to Shizuo. I’ll contact him myself when the time is right.”

_“The time is right after four years?”_

“The time will never be right.” He said, bitterness washing over him. “But it has to be done. I can’t hide my returning from him. He’ll just track me down.”

_“The time is right, Izaya. The time is right for you two-“_

He didn’t want to hear it. He **_couldn’t_** hear it. He’d dared to love Shizuo all those years ago, he’d taken a chance to become a real family with him, and it had ended horribly.

_That’s what you get when you become too trusting._

He couldn’t trust him again. _**Wouldn’t**_ trust him again. He wasn’t some unattached man who could flirt with death and fuck a monster without any worry of consequences. He was a parent now, and Psyche came first. Trying afresh with Shizuo that way would be foolish.

_But from what Shinra was saying, it seems he’s been waiting for that chance._

Shizuo was going to fight him on this. And it wasn’t going to be physical. A battle of wills.

_I don’t intend to lose._

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go. The conclusion of the second (or first, considering) chapter. I hope anyone reading enjoyed this. Since this was more of an intermission I'll try to post the next chapter sooner. 
> 
> Thanks again to those who left Kudos and gave feedback. (Please) review if you would like. No pressure though. :)
> 
> Have a lovely day/night!


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya finally returns to Tokyo, and initiates first contact with Shizuo, much to Psyche's distaste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to anyone reading!
> 
> Honestly, this was supposed to be posted a little sooner, but real life always comes first, unfortunately. I hope you derive some happiness from this.
> 
> PS: Thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos! You guys are all awesome. Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

“Here’s your headset, baby.”

Psyche looked up from the notepad he had been scribbling in, and accepted the headphones eagerly. “Thanks Mommy!”

Izaya watched fondly as the little boy fitted them over his ears. They practically dwarfed his head, and he couldn’t hold back a coo.

“Would you like a pair, sir?” The airline hostess questioned.

“No, I’m fine.”

“A hot towel?”

“No.”

It’s a familiar routine. They always fly first class, and the long flights had become normal. At first however, they had been _hell_. No one liked a fussy baby on a flight, even Izaya.

The first class cabins had been a heavenly comfort though. There was privacy, sleeping was relatively easy, and there was enough space for Psyche to be comfortable. The service was good, too. There was no hollering for attention, or waiting to catch sight of an employee. They always seemed to appear exactly when you needed them. The menu had a healthy selection of meals, and there was a television to entertain Psyche now that he was old enough to appreciate it.

Psyche had taken a particular liking to the animated movies that featured music, particularly the Disney ones he seemed to have watched constantly when they were in North America. Izaya had always found children’s television rather humorous, so the repetitive singing didn’t really annoy him, although Namie would thin her lips whenever one was playing.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Water, please.” Izaya requested.

“Lemon?”

“Yeah.”

The hostess bustled off in a flurry of makeup and heels, and Izaya adjusted the complimentary bag of toiletries the airline had provided them. It was going to be a _long_ flight back to Tokyo.

In what seemed like no time, the hostess was sashaying back over, handing Izaya a cool glass of water with a floating slice of lemon. He murmured his thanks, and raised an eyebrow when she stared intently at Psyche.

He cleared his throat pointedly, and the woman flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry for being rude. It’s just, I’ve flown with you two before and your son is such a nice boy. And you’re so kind to him. I’ve never seen a father be so affectionate.”

“Well thank you.” Izaya replied.

_That’s because I’m not his father. I am his mother._

The woman promptly excused herself to keep working. No doubt about to shudder and bumble around Shiki and Akabayashi. He remembered her as well, as she was one of the flight attendants who knew exactly _why_ she had to be ‘extra attentive’ to their needs, even in first class.

Izaya sipped from the refreshing water, settling back in the cushy chair and closing his eyes. Despite being on a plane, an experience many humans characterized as stressful, he was feeling the most relaxed since he had heard they would be returning to Tokyo. All of their possessions would be arriving ahead of them, Namie had painstakingly prepared the apartment as he had instructed, and he had survived through his second phone call to Shinra. The man had been remarkably lenient with him, resolving not to hold a grudge for Psyche’s sake, and also admitting that he understood why he had done what he did, although he begged Izaya not to tell Celty. The Dullahan, it seemed, still remained firmly on Shizuo’s side.

Shizuo. Izaya had no choice but to call him the moment Psyche was distracted. He wouldn’t have the monster terrifying the boy by breaking the door down and storming in with a mouthful of demands.

It would be a horrible first impression, and Psyche was rather sensitive.

_Something else he inherited from me._

Oftentimes, Izaya had to squint to see any Shizuo in Psyche. There was certainly no physical resemblance, and Izaya had covertly tested their son for that abominable strength, which Psyche thankfully hadn’t inherited. The boy didn’t have a bad temper (although he wasn’t immune to tantrums and outbursts like all young children) and even when he did get angry he never lashed out violently. His tastes though…

Psyche adored sweet foods and beverages (unlike his mother who preferred bitter foods) and he _loved_ milk. He’d drank from a bottle a lot longer than regular children (this may or may not have been because Izaya struggled to refuse Psyche anything) and Izaya had only realized why Psyche was fighting him so hard when he was reminded of Shizuo one day. He wasn’t addicted to the bottle, he didn’t want to go without the _milk._

That established, weaning Psyche off was incredibly easy. All he had to do was allow his son a cup of milk periodically and Psyche was back to being his angelic self.

Psyche seemed to have inherited his father’s sense of taste, and he seemed to crave milk almost as often as Shizuo did.

Izaya had a recurring nightmare (at one time he maybe could have called it a dream) where the three of them were sitting in a cosy café, Shizuo and Psyche both sipping from long, loopy straws that connected to obscenely large milkshakes. They were all smiling contently, like a real family.

A nightmare. A false illusion. An attempt to make him reconsider his stance on Shizuo.

Never again. He would never subject himself to the same amount of hurt as last time. Nor would he allow Psyche to once more know a family that was doomed to be tarnished. It had been hard enough last time when he was just a baby.

_It won’t happen._

Izaya assured himself, listening to the plane’s engines.

_It would be one thing if Psyche wanted to have that kind of relationship with his father, but he seems to vehemently dislike Shizu-chan._

Psyche had managed to find out that Shizuo had ‘hurt’ his mommy, and now the boy, who usually seemed to like everyone, disliked Shizuo enough that he only ever called him ‘him’, with the same acidity Izaya had himself always reserved for the man. It was like peering into a scarily realistic mirror, only he was forced to speak in a perfectly controlled manner about the man now.

_He’s got this…ridiculous notion in his head that he needs to protect me. I’m the one who needs to protect **him.**_

Psyche was only a baby when Shizuo had called him those awful names. A bastard, a flea, warped. He would understand words like that now, comprehend them fully, and Izaya couldn’t bear to see his child hurt. Emotionally, or physically.

_There’s no way I’m leaving that beast alone with him. God knows what he could do._

Besides. He didn’t want Psyche to make Shizuo feel **_miserable._**

He remembered every word of that fight. He’d been stewing over it for four years.

“Hey Mommy.”

Izaya started at the voice, eyes flying open as he jerked upwards.

Psyche was smiling at him sweetly.

“What is it sweetheart?” Izaya asked, and he sounded tired even to his own ears.

“I’m thirsty. May I please have some milk?”

_So polite._

Psyche was a mannerly boy. He’d learnt the importance of courtesy through travelling, and through observing those around him. Izaya had always praised him for using manners from a young age, and Shiki especially had always lectured him on being polite.

“Of course, Psyche-chan. We just have to wait for the stewardess to come back.”

_Which will be soon. She’ll come to see if I want a re-fill on my drink._

Psyche nodded in agreement. He removed the headset, and strained his seat-belt by crawling half-way onto his mother’s lap. He cuddled into Izaya’s chest, pressing his head down firmly to hear his mother’s heart.

_He’s feeling insecure._

This was a comforting ritual for Psyche. One he usually repeated when he was feeling upset or anxious.

**_That fucking monster making my baby feel nervous!_ **

Izaya rolled his tongue in anger, stroking Psyche’s hair. He hated Shizuo for this. Hated him for making Psyche feel this way. A father wasn’t meant to do this to his son.

Out of his peripherals, he spotted the flight attendant, and waved her over. “He’ll have a strawberry milk.” He told, not needing to seek clarification. That was Psyche’s favorite, followed by chocolate, then vanilla, then caramel, then banana-

Okay. Maybe he was an overly attached mother. But he couldn’t help it. Psyche was his precious little human and the boy needed a devoted mother.

“I’ll be right back with that for you, sir.”

Izaya smiled at her half-heartedly, ignoring the way she seemed to be blushing at the sight of the pair.

_I can do this._

Izaya assured himself, continuing his ministrations.

_If I could handle meeting high-ranking gang members in all of these countries, I can handle six measly months in Tokyo. I have missed Shinra, and Psyche should know his roots..._

 

* * *

 

 

“You didn’t need to drop us off.” Izaya looked peaky and overtired, holding his arms out expectantly in his apartment building’s entrance.

Akabayashi had insisted on carrying Psyche inside from the low-key limousine, telling Izaya in no uncertain terms that he looked like shit and needed a solid set of meals.

“Take him up for Orihara.” Shiki instructed tonelessly. “Kid looks like he’s about to collapse.”

“Not you too!” Izaya whined, as Akabayashi shouldered past him in the direction of the elevator. “Mr Shiki, I’m perfectly fine-“

“You’re perfectly overworked.” Shiki interjected curtly. “That’s not good for business, Orihara. You need rest and recuperation whilst we’re here, and I don’t want to hear any whispers about you causing trouble.” He held up a hand when Izaya opened his mouth. “And before you interrupt me to vouch your maturity, I will remind you of all the times you’ve managed to get into mischief in the past despite having Psyche.”

Izaya puffed out his cheeks, pouting. He may or may not have had some fun whilst travelling. But it was incredibly tame in comparison to what he used to do.

Just because he was a mother, it didn’t mean he had to become _boring._

“And whilst we’re on the matter of Psyche, I suggest you stop doting on him so much. You’re going to have to separate eventually. He’s not a baby anymore.”

“Is that so?” Izaya immediately snapped, feeling rather affronted. “Psyche is exceedingly intelligent for his age, and that’s not even my motherly instincts talking. You admitted that yourself. He’s not behind developmentally.”

Shiki massaged his temples. “Orihara, I’m not trying to offend you. What the boy really needs, is a-“

“Don’t you _dare_ say it!” Izaya hissed, and the affront mixed with hurt.

But Shiki had never been cowed or intimidated by Izaya, and Psyche’s involvement in his life had given him some kind of grandfatherly drive, where he pointed out the flaws Izaya refused to see. “He needs a father.” He finished unaffectedly.

“I’ll have you know that some children have two mothers, and they grow up perfectly fine!”

“That isn’t what I’m trying to say and you know it.” Shiki’s voice sharpened. “Parents need to have a mixture of traits to raise a child, and single parents can even manage it well. But you’re refusing to compensate for what Psyche is lacking. Now, you _will_ call Heiwajima, and you _will_ allow him time with Psyche.”

“I was planning on-“

“I know I don’t have any authority over what you do with your kid, but I think you need Heiwajima as much as Psyche does.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

_You don’t know what he said. All you know is what you’ve heard through the rumor mill._

“You should go up. Namie has probably let Akabayashi in. Take care of yourself.” Shiki felt in his pocket for his lighter, and lit up a cigarette. “And make sure you come by and visit.”

Izaya softened somewhat at the semi-order. Shiki was just concerned, and was showing it in that indirectly forceful way of his. He still didn’t agree in the slightest, but there was no point arguing with the hard-headed man. “Tell me when you need me next.”

“Hopefully not too soon!” Akabayashi had returned, a smirk on his scarred face. “I’m sick of your face, _and_ your voice. You and Psyche’s infernal singing was driving me insane.”

“Aw, so mean.” Izaya mirrored the smirk. “You sure you don’t want to hear a beautiful rendition of _May There Always Be Sunshine_ before you skulk off?”

“Try and Psyche will be searching for a new mommy tomorrow morning.” Akabayashi stroked his ever-present cane.

Izaya snickered. At first he had been weary of Akabayashi, but he had learned to like him. Although he would never dream of leaving Psyche alone with him. Once he had the man watch him whilst he ran a quick job. When he came back, they were watching an American remake of a Japanese horror movie, Akabayashi loudly complaining about the poor imitation whilst Psyche sat mouth gaping with horror. Psyche had woke up screaming about vengeful spirits for _months_ , and even wet the bed a few times.

Needless to say, no Akabayashi alone time with Psyche. He’d probably walk in and see Psyche playing with that dangerous cane.

He’d already asked about a weapon, much to Izaya’s horror. He couldn’t imagine his baby fighting, dodging bullets and knives. Like his two reckless parents.

“I’ll see you two later, then.” Izaya said. “Try not to miss Psyche-chan and me _too_ much.”

Akabayashi gave him a quick wave, following Shiki (who was murmuring something along the lines of ‘like that’s possible’) back outside to the waiting car.

Holding both his and Psyche’s carry-ons, he headed for the elevator. He extended his hand to push the button, but suddenly found the action, repeated so many times in the past, rather difficult.

This place had a long, not always pleasant, history for him, and being back here was…

_Frankly a little scary._

He’d be staying in the apartment where he’d schemed, spinning around on that computer chair madly as his brain thought up nefarious plots. He’d had a lot of fun making trouble in that apartment. Alternatively, he’d had a lot of fun there with Shizuo.

_This is ridiculous._

Izaya forcibly pressed the button, and stepped inside when the doors opened.

_It doesn’t matter if there’s a lot of old memories. Psyche and I are going to make new ones._

Izaya rode the elevator upwards, and composedly strode down the hall when it stopped, seizing hold of that familiar doorknob and swinging the door open, quietly stepping inside the home he had fled from so desperately.

_It’s perfect._

Namie had done well re-designing the place. It had exactly the same layout as before (albeit with new furniture, the only thing he’d left was the couch for Namie when she stayed) but was considerably more child friendly, with extra storage, and a perfectly proportioned spot for Psyche to play with his toys.

_I’ll have to thank her._

“Sheesh. I thought you were looking skinny _before_ I left.”

_Speaking of Namie…_

The woman was standing by a newly erected bookshelf, accompanied by a large army of boxes waiting to be unpacked. She looked as flawless as ever, hair sleek and outfit pressed.

_She looks exactly the same as when I was last here at this place._

“You too?” Izaya huffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You look like a gust of wind could take you to Oz.” Namie said bluntly.

“Expertise coming from the wicked witch.” Izaya said cheekily.

This time, Namie rolled her eyes. “You look exhausted.”

“I feel it too.” Izaya said dryly. “Now we’re done playing captain obvious, where is Psyche?”

“Tucked up in your bed, like usual.”

“Good.” Izaya approved. He eyed the book shelf carefully. “You didn’t bring,” He looked over his shoulder, weary for any unwanted eavesdroppers. “The head back here, did you?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Namie scoffed. “No.”

“It’s still secure?”

When Psyche had come along, keeping Celty’s head in his apartment became too much of a risk. He didn’t want his baby playing with a decapitated head. It would be morbid! What if he accidentally saw it? And became traumatized forever?

This paranoia had led to him handing the head back over to Namie, who was keeping it god knows where. She refused to tell him the location, only that it was safe from prying eyes.

Honestly, he didn’t care anymore. The only reason he hadn’t handed it back to Celty by now was because he was worried what the consequences would be. He didn’t want to be the demise of her relationship with Shinra, nor did he want to lose their support by revealing himself as the mastermind who had been keeping it hidden.

“Would I be here waiting for your scrawny ass to arrive if it wasn’t secure?”

“Well I am paying you.” Izaya reminded.

“It’s late.” Namie noted. “You should go to bed. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

“Aw. You sound like a loving housewife, Namie~”

“You have some calls to make. Mikado Ryugamine saw me buying food for you at the grocer, and when I brought Psyche’s art table Kyohei Kadota was in the same furniture store.”

Izaya moaned, his head suddenly beginning to throb. He at least wanted to unpack a little before calling Shizuo. At this rate, he’d be lucky if the brute didn’t break into the apartment whilst they were asleep. Mikado was one thing (and he was kind of amazed the kid was still sticking around, although he admittedly did keep tabs on everyone when he was travelling) but _Dotachin?_ One word from him to his little van buddies and all of Ikebukuro would know Namie Yagiri was out buying furniture for a kid, despite not having one. The Dollars website had thrived in his absence, and was still utilised constantly.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Namie bode, squeezing around the boxes towards the door.

“Thank you.” Izaya said, remembering his earlier resolve. “You’ve done a good job.”

“As always.”

“Overconfidence is a killer!” He called softly to her retreating figure, and he waited until her bag had swung out of the door before dropping his smirk. Over the years Namie had seen him wearing a lot of different expressions, but this was his default.

He dropped the carry-ons onto the ground with a dull thump, and headed to the kitchen. Seeing the fully stocked fridge made his stress lessen, and he drained a water bottle in one large gulp, his throat scratchy. He’d learnt to adjust to jetlag, and his current tiredness had nothing to do with that.

He was so unbelievably stressed. About Psyche, about himself, about being here.

Fearing idleness would bring about panic, he yanked one of his blades from his pocket (getting them past customs was incredibly easy when accompanied by two Awakusu) and sliced through the tape on one of the boxes, beginning to unpack. He kept an ear out for Psyche, who would be terrified waking up in a new environment without his mother reassuring him. Izaya was honestly surprised he had slept through the commute home.

_He must have been incredibly tired._

Psyche never slept that well on flights. Izaya always said it was because the environment was different, but deep down he knew it was probably because Psyche had a headset and a mother who wouldn’t pressure him into sleeping.

So Izaya began a steady process of unpacking, navigating the old apartment with red rimmed eyes and an aching body. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. What if Shizuo _did_ come bursting into his apartment?

Besides, this stuff needed to be done anyway, he may as well do it when Psyche isn’t attached to his side…

His motions were robotic as night steadily drew onwards, and he was making good headway unpacking, until Psyche woke up. Izaya had been attempting to stealthily shove clothing in drawers, but the rustling had roused him.

Psyche let out a whine, and Izaya immediately dropped his handful of shirts, hurrying over to his side and brushing a hand through his ruffled hair gently. “It’s okay baby…” Izaya reassured in a calming tone. “I’m here.”

Psyche’s eyelashes (rather long for a boys) fluttered, but his eyelids remained closed.

Izaya waited for a moment, before trying to move away.

Trying, because Psyche immediately latched onto him with a fast moving hand.

_Quick reflexes, just like mommy._

He thought tiredly, pulling back the covers to slip inside. The bed was spacious enough to accommodate a family of three, and Izaya unwittingly reminisced on the last time he had slept in this apartment, Psyche on his chest and feeling the glaringly empty space besides him. He didn’t feel that way now. He’d slept without Shizuo at his side for four years. Now he had Psyche, who clung like a leech and was just as hard to peel off.

Still...

Izaya fell into an interrupted, anxious sleep, eyes flying open at the slightest noise, his hand feeling for the switchblade he kept at his bedside table. He’d used to stow it under the pillow, before Psyche had developed a habit of playing with it. He’d sliced his hand once, barely deeper than a paper cut, but Izaya had reacted like it was grievous, raising his voice in an uncommon way, seizing him by the shoulders and spouting a stream of scolds, _“You silly boy, how could you do something so stupid?”_

He’d felt terribly guilty afterwards, and had pampered the shocked boy with a sickly sweet dinner and gracious cuddles to make up for his loss of composure.

He didn’t want to be the type of parent who yelled at his child.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time the sun was rising, Izaya had managed a few fitful hours of rest, and underwent the daily process of detaching from Psyche, whose head had ended up on his chest again, and whose arms were wrapped around him tightly.

When Izaya finally managed it, he trod into the bathroom, yanking off the clothes he had slept in and stepping into the gleaming bathroom. It had a cleanly sheen which indicated Namie had scrubbed it down well prior to their arrival (which was good, as Izaya had high standards when it came to cleanliness, especially around his child) and he relaxed under a torrent of warm water, which momentarily soothed his aching muscles. The heat made his eyelids sag in renewed tiredness, and it was hard to leave the sanctuary of his shower.

He no longer felt self-conscious changing in the same room as Psyche (although he had balked at the prospect when his son was still a newborn) and he dressed comfortably, not intending on venturing outside of the apartment today. He needed to finish unpacking, and Psyche needed to settle in properly before he overwhelmed him with all the new stimuli.

This wasn’t one of the unfamiliar countries they explored without fear of recognition. Four years may have passed, but Izaya Orihara’s name was still familiar, and his form would still be recognizable in most parts of Ikebukuro and Shinjuku. That meant the probability of being approached was high, and he didn’t want to throw Psyche into the deep-end whilst he was still adjusting to their new home.

After all, no one else knew of Psyche’s existence. He’d hardly left the house when Psyche was a baby, and when he did he was skilled enough to avoid detection. So he fully expected The Dollars forum to be bombarded with posts about him knocking up some woman. No doubt they would all claim that was _The Reason_ he left Japan.

He was still weary of the dangers of Tokyo, he’d immersed himself in them, after all, but he had faith in his abilities to protect his son. Parenthood hadn’t blunted his claws any, and even though Psyche failed to perceive his mommy as someone competent at fighting, he was still very much able to defend himself. He hadn’t allowed himself to get rusty, and his abilities were _exactly_ the same as when he was last here.

He could show any morons with a grudge that.

With these strong thoughts swirling in his mind, he made himself a coffee, foregoing sugar to pour it down his gullet bitter. These days he practically lived on coffee, and he had come to appreciate the different blends in other countries.

Once he had his caffeine fix, he began cooking breakfast for Psyche. He had become quite adept at cooking over the years, and had even taken a few classes in the different countries they visited. Which, of course, was _confidential._ What kind of informant spent his time fretting about meals like a housewife?

Namie thought it was hilarious, and liked to tease him about it mercilessly. In their travelling, she had undergone the task of cooking for the whole group often. But when Izaya had the time, he preferred to prepare Psyche’s food. It was more familial, and there was something satisfying about seeing the boy eat something he had prepared.

_The fridge is fully stocked, and I unpacked the dishes, cutlery and cooking utensils last night…I wonder what I should make for him…_

Having lived out of Japan for the majority of his life, Psyche hadn’t really tried traditional Japanese cuisine, and much preferred the Western style of eating. Izaya had once served his son a bowl of rice for breakfast, and the flabbergasted expression he’d worn had been both funny and kind of disappointing.

Izaya could have made him something simple, but he felt Psyche should start the day on a good note, and decided to cook him some pancakes as a treat. Psyche would eat pancakes for every breakfast if he could, but Izaya didn’t want him to become unhealthy. When they’d been in North America, Pop-Tarts had been the bane of Izaya’s existence. Psyche had _always_ wanted to eat them, and he had cursed the company that had created something so drastically unhealthy, yet apparently very addictive. It was always a struggle to deny Psyche something, even when it was for a good reason, and doing it _every single goddamned morning_ had driven him insane. He wasn’t some crazy, calorie counting mother, and he had allowed Psyche to eat them on the weekends, but it had still been like pulling teeth.

Making pancakes now was incredibly easy, although he’d once considered it a masterful feat he’d never be able to achieve, and he mindlessly whistled the tune for _May There Always Be Sunshine_ as he did so, pouring the homemade batter into the pan and flipping with the spatula. He decided to serve them with strawberries, and was just spreading them prettily on a plate when he heard the sound of feet pattering lightly on the ground. Amused, he gave a small smirk. In the daylight, Psyche would be fine, but…

_1…_

Feet sliding down stairs, and Izaya shook his head. How many times had he told Psyche not to run down stairs? The boy may have been co-ordinated like him, but Izaya had years of parkour experience.

_2…_

A pause. Psyche was looking for him. And…

_3._

A small form impacted with him, arms wrapping around his midsection and a face burying into his black shirt.

_What? Style must always be observed._

Izaya dressed in dark tones. In stark contrast to Psyche who was always clothed in bright colors. Usually pinks and whites. Currently, the boy was dressed just in his underwear. Akabayashi had clearly stripped him down since Izaya had been in possession of the carry-on. “Good morning, Psyche-chan.” Izaya bode pleasantly, fitting down the last slice of strawberry atop the modest mound. “Did you sleep well?” Psyche nodded, Izaya feeling the movement. “That’s good, because Mommy wants you to be bright and alert today.”

Psyche pulled away, and Izaya looked downwards. The boy was fisting his eyes, but managing a smile. “D-did-“ His sentence was interrupted by a yawn. “You make me pancakes, Mama?”

“Yep.” Izaya chirped, picking up the plate. “But before you eat, put on some pyjamas. I don’t want you catching a cold in _Japan_. You managed perfectly fine in Russia.” Feeling his son’s questioning eyes, he went on. “I haven’t finished unpacking our clothes, but you have a pair in the plane bag.”

“Where’s the plane bag?” The question was eager. Psyche was clearly hungry.

“Mommy put it down near the entrance. Do you want help?”

“Nope! I can find it, Mom.” The tiredness had practically evaporated now, replaced by curiosity. Psyche loved exploring new places, and with his insecurity over his father dormant, he was excited to look around his new home.

“Okay sweetheart. Don’t take too long though, okay? Your breakfast will get cold.”

Approval gained, Psyche raced away from the kitchen, and Izaya set the plate down at the table. He filled a plastic cup of milk to accompany it, and placed down the utensils.

_I should probably eat something._

Izaya didn’t have much of an appetite these days, but he knew the importance of eating regularly. He needed all the energy he could get, after all.

_I’ll just have some oatmeal._

Izaya prepared his own breakfast to the sounds of Psyche running around the apartment, shouting out exclamations of joy when he saw all of his toys, and _oohing_ and _ahhhing_ over the view the apartment offered of the world below. Izaya had just eaten his first spoonful when the boy came skittering back, shirt on backwards and pants hanging halfway down his hips. Psyche somehow lost the ability to dress properly when he was excited.

His breakfast would have been tepid now, but Psyche didn’t whine. He took a large sip of his milk, and then commenced to neatly devour the pancakes happily. His lips stained with strawberry, he babbled animatedly about the apartment, asking questions that ranged from (“How did I get here last night?”) to (“Can I buy a cool instrument now we’re here?”)

To which Izaya answered (“Gramps carried you upstairs to bed.”) and (“That sounds like a nice idea, darling. What instrument would you like?”)

He already knew what, of course. Psyche had an impressive collection of instruments and CDs from their travels, but there was always one thing travelling couldn’t permit them to carry. And their travelling had permitted them to collect a lot.

A piano.

Not a keyboard.

A _real_ piano.

The type that swallowed up space and made a dent in Izaya’s lucrative bank account.

But he didn’t care about the cost. He would have purchased one a long time ago if it weren’t for their travelling.

_We’re definitely here for six months, so I may as well get him one now. I can probably teach him what I know._

Izaya had a basic understanding of pianos. He had taken lessons as a young teen, although he had ultimately decided observing humans and practicing manipulation were pursuits more valuable of his time. He hadn’t been bad, though. The teacher had been sad to see him discontinue.

Psyche played coy over the whole matter, giving a small shrug and mumbling that he (“Didn’t know yet.”) Before shoving a strawberry in his mouth.

Izaya played along and told him to (“Tell Mommy when you know, okay Psyche-chan?”) and the two finished their breakfast, Psyche in high spirits and Izaya dreading what was to come. The sun had risen to its morning position, and he knew Tokyo would be bustling beneath them, teeming with energy and possibility. Such things had used to thrill him, now he could only worry about Shizuo.

_He’d be up by now, probably draining a carton of milk before he goes to work. Now would be the best time to call him. Before he hears anything._

There was no real reason to stall now. Shinra had given him Shizuo’s new number the last time they had spoken, and he had already entered it into the cell phone that was reserved mostly for personal use. All he had to do was select the contact, hold the phone to his ear, and _speak._

_It seems so easy theoretically._

But every word had to be phrased carefully. He had to be controlled. Calm.

Without the mockery and sarcasm that was his usual default.

_This is going to be hard. But I have to. For Psyche._

If he kept things cool and cordial, their dealings would follow just so. Hopefully.

_**Please** let him be reasonable for once._

“Psyche-chan,” He began, as Psyche helped him clean up. The boy was handing him dishes to place in the sink, humming a tune Izaya couldn’t identify. “Do you think you could play by yourself for a little while? Mommy has some work to do.”

Psyche was good at independent play, but he always preferred to have Izaya with him. “I thought you were having a break from work.” Psyche said, inquisitive.

“I just need to make a phone call.” Izaya explained the bare minimum, hoping Psyche wouldn’t press for more information.

“Who are you calling?”

Once again, his son was too much like him for his own good.

He could have lied, but he hated deceiving Psyche.

“That’s Mommy’s business.” Izaya said, in the mildest voice he could manage. “Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

“You’re calling _him_ , aren’t you?”

Izaya gave a small sigh, turning away from the sink to better face his glowering son. That expression looked so alien on Psyche’s face. “Yes. I am.”

“But-“

“No buts, Psyche. Mommy has already spoken about this with you.”

“But-“

“Why don’t you draw Mommy a pretty picture to put on the new refrigerator? Namie-chan bought you a little art table to use.”

Psyche seemed to be struggling with his attention span, but eventually came out victorious. “Mommy, I will protect you.” He announced in an adorably firm voice. “I won’t let _him_ hurt you again.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, sweetheart. But your father isn’t going to hurt me.”

_One can only hope._

“Do we have crayons?”

“We sure do. They’re in the special container.”

“Don’t look at what I’m drawing! I want it to be a surprise!”

Izaya gave another small sigh, this one relieved. “Okay. I’m sure it will be beautiful.”

“It will be!” Psyche was quick to affirm. Then he hurried off, and Izaya was left cradling the phone he had tucked into his pocket.

_Just like ripping off a Band-Aid. Do it quick and then it will be over._

As a precaution, Izaya moved upstairs to make the call. Psyche would probably be absorbed in his task, but if Shizuo decided to shout and holler, it would definitely arouse suspicion.

For ten minutes he struggled to press the call button, before he managed to overcome his reluctance and replace it with steely determination. He forced his thumb downwards, and listened as the phone rang.

Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. F-

_“Heiwajima.”_

The voice was brusque, and Izaya’s knees suddenly felt a little wobbly. Hearing that voice after so long, it was overwhelming…

_“Hello?”_

He gulped, and forced himself to speak without a tremble. “Still as impatient as ever, Shizu-chan.”

_WHAT!? That wasn’t what I was meant to say! First contact in four years, and I start with a barb. Great fucking work, Orihara._

He slapped a palm to his forehead, and heard Shizuo give a sharp intake of breath.

_“Is that you? Izaya?”_

There was crippling hope in his voice, and Izaya sunk down onto the bed. “Yes. It’s me.” He confirmed.

_“I knew it!”_

The overjoyed announcement made Izaya balk.

_He knew we were back? He has better self-control than I thought._

_“I knew you’d come back!”_

_Oh. Harboring those hopes for all this time, huh? Sorry to say I don’t feel pity for you, Shizu-chan. You were the one who wanted this._

Izaya could still hear the stinging assault on Psyche ringing in his ears, remember it word for word four years later. “This is a courtesy call.” Izaya said after a long moment, voice cold. “ ** _My_** son and I are back in Shinjuku, and it is my obligation to contact you and inform you. So, before you get ahead of yourself with your self-entitlement issues, know that I haven’t come back here to _**be with you.”**_

_That was more scathing than I intended. Whatever._

There was a lengthy pause, in which Izaya heard Shizuo grinding his teeth. _“Look Izaya, I understand if you don’t want to give me a second chance straight away, but-“_

Izaya balked, and his perfect eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. “Excuse me?” He said, in furious disbelief. “’Straight away’”? Try **_never._** I did not come back here to be with _you,_ and if I had my way I wouldn’t be here _at all_. I’m here for six months, under instructions from my employers, and once these six months have concluded Psyche and I _**will** _ be leaving again, and no bad-tempered blustering is going to make me change my mind!” Izaya panted softly at the end of his rant, and worriedly checked around for Psyche. He waited angrily for Shizuo’s response, and blinked confusedly when he received a chuckle.

 _“I’ve missed hearing you yell at me.”_ His voice was dry. _“I’ve just missed your voice in general, actually. The way you chatter, and laugh, the way you do that whole baby-talk thing with Psyche, and the way you moan and squeal when we-“_

“Will you shut up?” Izaya hissed, cheeks turning pink. That was the closest he’d gotten to dirty talk for years. He wasn’t immune to sexual frustration, and had had the odd sexual outlet here and there when travelling (always with exotic strangers who wouldn’t expect more than a quick, stress-relieving fuck, and never inside the same house as Psyche) and he often jerked off in the shower (when Psyche was occupied and not likely to burst in mid-pump) but none of his other brief sexual partners had ever satisfied him the way Shizuo had. The beast had achieved some loathsome sexual mastery over him. “You vacuous beast, I’m not calling to have a conversation about that!”

_“Don’t tell me you aren’t hard over this.”_

Izaya shoved a hand into his underwear, and flushed. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.” He sniffed.

 _“You always were easily-stimulated.”_ Izaya could hear that damned brute’s smirk through the phone. _“I guess after four years, it mustn’t be-“_

Izaya gave a cruel laugh that rendered Shizuo silent. “Are you really so dense to think I haven’t been fucked in four years?”

_“You mean to say you’ve been bringing home men to my son!?”_

“You presumptuous protozoan!” Izaya snapped. “You really think I’m some promiscuous half-wit who brings home strangers? I’ve never done that around Psyche! And even if I did, it wouldn’t be any of your business! In case you haven’t noticed, we’re **_not_** together!”

Shizuo muttered something into the phone that sounded vaguely like ‘but we will be’, and Izaya struggled to maintain his composure.

_Does he really think things will be that easy? That Daddy can just walk through the door and Psyche and Mommy will be embracing him? He’s deluded._

“I’m not calling to argue with you.” Izaya said icily. “I’ve called to announce our presence, and I don’t expect anything more.”

_Please don’t ask to see-_

_“Psyche.”_ Shizuo said calmly. _“You can’t stop me from seeing him.”_

“I know.” The words tasted repulsive in his mouth. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

_“I want to see him as soon as possible-“_

“There will be ground-rules.” Izaya interrupted firmly.

_“Didn’t expect anything less.”_

_He sounds so relaxed about all of this. I expected him to be shouting by now…_

But Shizuo had practiced this scenario many times.

“You will visit us, in the Shinjuku apartment. You will come clean and presentable, with no blood splatters or torn clothing, and if you bring a pack of those cancer sticks past my threshold I will personally carve all of them up. If you lose your temper at any time, I will seek legal counsel about keeping you away from Psyche. And don’t think I won’t.” Izaya expected Shizuo to be angry, but he was left surprised when the brute accepted the terms without any complaint.

_“Fine. When can I see him?”_

“Whenever you want.” Izaya sighed. The sooner they got this over with the better. It was likely Shizuo would see Psyche once, realise how much he remained a ‘miniature flea’ and practically flee through the doors.

_“Fantastic. I’ll come by after work today.”_

“A little forewarning,” Izaya started. “Psyche doesn’t…exactly hold a favorable opinion of you. And before you start hollering at me about badmouthing you, you should know I hardly ever mention you, let alone speak about you outside of an impartial way.”

Shizuo growled. _“Then how does he-“_

“Namie, I suspect.” Izaya said shortly. “She babysits Psyche when I’m working.”

 _“That **woman.** ”_ Shizuo grumbled. _“I knew she was-“_

“Say what you want about Namie, but she has been a reliable worker for me and has a better relationship with our son then you do.” Izaya said sharply.

 _“You finally said it._ ” Shizuo’s voice was satisfied.

“Said what?”

_“’Our son’”_

Izaya huffed. “Don’t get cocky. Genetically, he is our son.”

_“Did you ever actually go to Hawaii?”_

_That’s a sudden topic change._

“What?” Izaya said, lacking his usual eloquence.

_“When you first left, the only trace of you we could find was that bitch going to Hawaii, but you weren’t there.”_

Izaya couldn’t repress a smirk. “I knew you’d fall for it.”

_Blatant red herring, and he still chases after it like the protozoan he is._

_“I was desperate.”_ Shizuo’s voice turned soft. _“Izaya, I’ve been waiting for four years, for the opportunity to tell you that I’m-“_

“Mommy, I finished my picture!”

Izaya near-dropped the phone in surprise, jumping in the air at the unexpected voice. He swivelled his head, and saw Psyche in the doorway, proudly brandishing a piece of paper decorated with crayon. He had to squint to decipher what the illustrations were, but when he looked closely he realised it was a pair of stick figures. One figure taller than the other.

_Me and him. How original._

Despite the sardonic thought, Izaya’s heart burst with happiness. “What a lovely picture, Psyche-chan.” He praised.

“It’s me and you!” Psyche explained cheerfully. “I drew some snowflakes too, cause’ we’re in Russia.”

 _“Is that Psyche?”_ Shizuo was dumb-struck, but excited. _“Can I talk to him?”_

“You can see him this afternoon.” Izaya replied tersely. “Remember the rules.” Without another word, he promptly hung up, inwardly sniggering over how pissed off the brute would be with his dismissiveness. This was what Shizuo deserved.

“Was that _him?_ ” Psyche crinkled his nose cutely.

_And now I get to inform my son that the only man he has the spirit to abhor is coming over to visit. How lucky I am._

Izaya’s appreciation of sarcasm hadn’t depleted any over the years. “Yes. It was.” Izaya confirmed gently. “Your father is coming to visit this afternoon.” Psyche widened his eyes in a heartbreaking look, and Izaya had to turn away. He felt a fierce need to comfort his baby, to make him feel better for what that beast was putting them through. “I know it’s hard, Psyche. ** _I know.”_**

_I wish I didn’t have to do this to you._

“Mommy isn’t doing this to be mean or unkind-“

“Of course not!” Psyche said indignantly. “Mommy is never mean!”

Izaya cracked a watery smile, cursing his emotions for running astray.

_Pull yourself together. Shizuo can’t see you like this…_

“I won’t leave you with him.” Izaya vowed. “I **_promise_** I will be with you the whole time.”

He wouldn’t put it past Shizuo to pull some irrational, ill-thought stunt, like kidnapping.

“I know, Mom.”

The unwavering faith and loyalty made Izaya feel renewed, and he perked up, swiping the picture and smiling at it prettily. “This really is beautiful, Psyche-chan. Let’s go put it on the refrigerator. Then Mommy will put on some music and you can play whilst I finish unpacking.”

Psyche watched proudly as Izaya made a big show of sticking the picture onto the fridge, and gladly picked out a CD from his impressive collection. Izaya stuck the CD into the player, and listened as Psyche pretended he was a singer at a concert. He continued his unpacking, pausing here and there to speak with Psyche and make him lunch. By the time noon had arrived, he had finished his unpacking, and moved on to cleaning up the mess from breakfast and lunch.

Psyche was now singing along to a switched CD, arranging stuffed animals into a semblance of a band. The boy had accumulated many stuffed animals from different countries, particularly from zoos and tourist areas. Like most children, Psyche adored the zoo.

Izaya was soon thereafter roped into playing the attentive audience, and he applauded heartily at the right intervals and gave a few enthusiastic exclamations here and there to please his son.

He received three phone calls, one from Namie, to see if she was needed that day, one from Shinra, to ask if they had arrived okay (and to bother him about Shizuo) and one from Shiki to make sure Izaya hadn’t decided to run off with Psyche in the dead of the night.

By the time three thirty came around, and loud, demanding knocks were heard, Izaya had changed into his typical attire, sans the coat he had kept in good condition over the years. He’d had Psyche change into clothes and clean his teeth, and the boy visibly started at the noise, which had been heard over the movie Izaya had not long put on. He pressed pause, and grabbed Psyche’s arm easily as the boy made to depart the room.

 _“He_ doesn’t have to see me.” Psyche attested mulishly, and Izaya realized his son was going to be uncooperative. Psyche was hardly ever _uncooperative_ , and when such a rare occurrence arose Izaya was usually as hapless as he was now.

“If you’re a good boy, Mommy will buy you a pair of headphones like they have on the aeroplanes.”

“Really?”

_Oh thank God._

“Yeah.” Izaya said gratefully, running a hand through Psyche’s hair. “But only if you’re good. No running away or tantrums. If you feel upset you tell Mommy and I’ll help you.”

Psyche nodded, and cringed when the knocks became a little louder. “Mommy, I think he’s going to break through the door.”

“You wait on the lounge.” Izaya instructed, releasing his arm and stalking to the door. Not pausing to think (because if he did, he might barricade the door) Izaya swung open the door, not even looking at the man as he snapped “Can you tone down the barbaric behaviour? You’re scaring my son, you Neanderthal.” After spitting those words in a whisper, he looked at Shizuo for the first time in four years.

_He-_

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now! Shizuo will finally be reunited with Izaya and Psyche in the next chapter. I'll try to post it when I can. 
> 
> (Please) Review if you can. No pressure though. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and have a nice day/night!


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hopeful Shizuo reunites with a hesitant Psyche, and a watchful Izaya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to any readers! Honestly I wasn't going to post anything so early but I felt horribly guilty about the cliffhanger and was inspired by all of your reviews! Thank you so much! And to everyone who left Kudos, as well. 
> 
> This chapter contains part of Shizuo's reunion with Izaya and Psyche. Another should follow. For anyone who wants more baby Psyche, there's some of that in this chapter!
> 
> Please enjoy!

* * *

 

 

“You haven’t aged a day.”

Shizuo observed, at the same time as Izaya.

Shizuo looked exactly as he did four years ago, and a vain part of Izaya was happy to hear such a comment about himself as well. He checked in the mirror every morning for wrinkles. With all the stress he was under, you’d think he resembled a corpse. Alas, time had fortunately left him unchanged.

“Damn flea, you’re skinny!”

_Him as well?_

Izaya crossed his thin arms defensively. “I’ve always been skinny.”

“Doesn’t that woman cook for you?”

“You’re not dressed in the bartender getup.” Izaya noted. Shizuo was dressed casually, but neatly, in a pair of jeans and a plain shirt. They seemed to be of good quality as well, which confirmed Izaya’s suspicions that the brute had been earning more money.

“Thought I may as well look nice for my son.” Shizuo gave an uncaring shrug, and Izaya was so tempted to put his slender hands on those broad shoulders. “So, where is he?”

“On the couch.” Izaya responded, still softly. “But remember to be patient, okay?” Shizuo gave a small grunt which Izaya presumed meant ‘yes’, and he led Shizuo over to the couch, where Psyche was staring at the stilled screen resolutely. For a long moment, Shizuo merely gazed at their son with amazement, no doubt trying to identify the baby he had last seen with the child sitting before him. His staring, however, was making Psyche uncomfortable, and Izaya nudged Shizuo tellingly.

“He still looks like you.” Shizuo murmured. “Beautiful.”

Izaya willed his cheeks to remain cooled, and focused on the task at hand. Introduction. “Psyche-chan, this here is Shizuo Heiwajima.”

Psyche narrowed his pink eyes at the man, scrutinising him unabashedly.

“Your _father._ ” Shizuo corrected, sending Izaya a grumpy look, and then grinning broadly at their son. “Wow. You got big.”

“That tends to happen over years.” Psyche remarked, high voice utterly disdainful. He sounded like Izaya when he was irritated, and the resemblance wasn’t lost on either of them.

Shizuo momentarily appeared hurt, before narrowing his eyes back challengingly. “I’m sorry I missed them, Psyche. But Daddy would like to make that u-“

“You’re _not_ my daddy.” Psyche rebutted strongly.

Shizuo looked questioningly to Izaya, but the informant didn’t really know what to say to that. He knew Psyche wasn’t in denial about his parentage, so this had to be some sort of attitude towards-

“Daddy’s are supposed to hold hands, play, and look after their family, not make Mommy’s cry and hurt their hearts.” Psyche stated this matter-of-fact, as if he were the highest authority on family related relationships. “Therefore, you aren’t my daddy.”

Regular four year olds weren’t that articulate, but Psyche was different.

Shizuo’s face was filled with regret, eyes swimming with remorse, and Psyche was deliberately looking away from the man.

Izaya didn’t want to scold Psyche for his words, because the boy was merely expressing himself. He didn’t want Psyche to ever stifle his feelings or disregard an opinion, it would only cause things to fester and boil, until they’d finally explode.

Plus, it was unpleasant, and Izaya liked to hear how Psyche felt.

Izaya knew that Psyche had likely seen him cry once before (despite his attempts to hide ever being upset) but hearing him say the words aloud made him feel inadequate. _He_ was supposed to be the strong one. And he _loathed_ how Shizuo was suddenly looking at him, like he was some delicate flower who hadn’t survived their breakup. Because he had. It may have been hard, but he had done so.

“Time may have passed Psyche,” Shizuo’s voice was firm and unyielding. “But that does not change the fact that you are my son. I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” He looked at Izaya then, expression sincere. “For _both_ of you, but I’m not about to let that happen again. I’m **_going_** to be there for the two of you.”

“For sixth months.” Psyche disregarded uncaringly.

Izaya couldn’t hold back a smirk. “He beat me by one second.”

“It’s a start.” Shizuo permitted grudgingly. “I’ll take what I can get and pick my battles later.”

“Just so you know,” Psyche sniffed haughtily. “The only reason I’m being nice to you is because Mommy said he’d buy me a pair of headphones.”

_So, he can be acidic._

“Can I have a word, lou-Izaya?” Shizuo corrected himself quickly, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance.

Izaya matched his glare, but smiled at Psyche. “Mommy will just be a moment, baby. You can keep watching your movie.” He picked up the abandoned remote, and resumed the film, turning up the volume just in case Shizuo decided it was time to yell.

Psyche refocused his attention on the movie, and Izaya led the way into the kitchen. “Help yourself to the fridge.” He offered in a snap.

Shizuo yanked open the door so hard it almost came clean off the hinges, and snorted when he saw the assortment inside. “Milk? You still bottle feeding the kid? It wouldn’t surprise me. You still seem to baby him.”

“Psyche-chan happens to _like_ milk.” Izaya explained tartly, crossing his arms defensively. “Something he inherited from his imbecile of a father.” He watched with thinly guised hostility as Shizuo gulped straight from one of the cartons. “ _Augh_. You _animal._ Do you know how unhygienic that is? You could make Psyche-chan sick from your protozoan cooties!”

Shizuo wiped his mouth, crumpling the empty carton in a strong palm. “Whilst we’re talking about Psyche, do you wanna tell me when bribery became a good parenting method?”

“Don’t get so high and mighty. Your parenting contribution for the last four years has been non-existent, so you have no right to lecture me.”

“And whose fault is that?” Shizuo shot back. “If you’d come back-“

“But I didn’t.” Izaya interrupted harshly. “I didn’t come back and you reminding me isn’t going to change anything. If you can’t get past that fact, you can get the fuck out _now_. If you want to have a relationship with Psyche, you can show me that you still don’t think he’s a _'bastard'_ , and _'warped'_ , and a _'miniature flea'_.”

“You reminding me about what I mistakenly said isn’t going to help matters!” Shizuo got out from between clenched teeth. “I said I was sorry, you malicious louse!”

“You don’t ‘accidentally’ say things of that nature, Shizuo.” Izaya retorted.

“I don’t want to argue with you over this-“

“Then don’t.” Izaya said bluntly. “Don’t argue with me. You came for Psyche. If you care so much, demonstrate it by being patient with him.”

“Fine.” Shizuo agreed roughly. “But don’t go breathing down my neck.”

“You don’t make the rules here, Shizu-chan.” Izaya didn’t await a reply, sweeping from the kitchen and back into the lounge, where Psyche was peering at the television with a vaguely anxious expression. “Psyche-chan, are you okay?”

The boy perked up at hearing his mother, and ran over to his side, hugging his midsection with all the strength his tiny arms could muster. “I don’t want _him_ to hurt you, Mommy! Please stay with me.”

Izaya returned the unexpected (although, not really, as Psyche was an affectionate child) embrace, and ignored Shizuo’s (who had followed behind him) wounded look. “Psyche-chan, Mommy has told you that Shizu-chan **_won’t_** ,” His crimson orbs flashed fiercely here. “Hurt you.”

_Even if he wanted to, I would stop him. I’d cut his hands off if he ever tried to lay a finger on Psyche._

“I’ll hurt you if you hurt Mom!” Psyche informed Shizuo strongly. “Namie-chan said you’re a monster, but I’ll use one of Mommy’s knives and-“

“We don’t play with knives, Psyche-chan.” Izaya chided. “That’s how people get hurt.”

Shizuo suddenly bent down on his knees, looking Psyche in the face. It was kind of an awkward position, as Psyche was still clinging to Izaya. “Psyche, I would never hurt you or your mother.”

Izaya held back a snort, not wanting to frighten Psyche. Sure, Shizuo may have had a rein on his temper when kids were involved, but him? Not so much.

Still, the other man looked up at him reproachfully.

“I don’t trust you.”

_He’s usually so sweet…_

“I know.” Shizuo said, unsurprised. “If you did, you wouldn’t be your mother’s son.”

_What is **that** supposed to mean?_

“Why don’t you go draw another picture?” Izaya suggested. “Mommy will stay and watch.”

Psyche released Izaya reluctantly, and backed away from his parents wearily, eyes never straying from Shizuo. When he reached the table, he poked out his tongue at the man cheekily, before picking up a red crayon and beginning to scribble.

Shizuo looked at Izaya expectantly, and the man raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Aren’t you gonna…” He gestured pointedly at Psyche, and then rolled his eyes when Izaya merely stared at him dully. “How do you discipline him?” It was a sudden question, and Izaya felt taken-aback.

“W-what?” He blinked confusedly.

“Discipline. You don’t seem to be aquatinted with it.”

_He’s been here less than an hour and already he’s trying to assert some weird dad dominance over discipline. I really shouldn’t be surprised. He was exactly the same when Psyche was a baby._

Izaya could still recall his voice with perfect clarity.

(“Flea, he’s doing that on _purpose_.”)

(“He’s got you wrapped around his finger.”)

(“How do you expect us to have sex when you can’t even put him down?”)

“Psyche-chan is a good boy.” Izaya replied. “I don’t need to subscribe to any of that traditional nonsense.”

“So if he poked his tongue out at a stranger on the street you wouldn’t do anything?”

“He _wouldn’t_. He only did that to you because he doesn’t like you. Besides, even if he did, he’d just be playing.”

“What if he did something you in all your informant glory deem as rude?”

“I’d ask him to refrain.”

“You wouldn’t say no.”

“I don’t like saying no.”

“ _That_ is what I’m talking about.” Shizuo said in an exasperated growl. “You’re still too soft. If you don’t give him consequences-“

“Pearls of wisdom from the pinnacle of parenting. You haven’t even spent time with him. How do you know he’s some unruly brat? I should have known how little faith you’d have in me.”

“That’s not it at all, you presumptuous louse.”

“Ooh, Shizu-chan used a big word.”

“I have a _lot_ of faith in you.” Shizuo said slowly. “I saw how good a mother you were to Psyche when he was a baby. But that’s what you are, a _mother_. Psyche needs a father.”

“There are plenty of-“

“I know there are parents and partners who parent without a father, but they’re all different. _We’re_ different. Psyche needs a father. You need me.”

The pair had been conversing in hushed tones, so as not to disturb the drawing child, but at this comment, Izaya let out a loud scoff that had the boy looking up suspiciously. “Are you thirsty?” He blurted to his son hurriedly. “Would you like something to drink, sweetheart?”

“Can I have some milk Mommy?”

“Of course you can, angel.” Izaya said, and he felt self-conscious when Shizuo chortled.

_Just what does he find so funny?_

“I’ll go get you your milk. Shizu-chan will-“

“We can be alone for a minute or so, can’t we Psyche?” Shizuo was grinning again, and his voice was warm. “You can show me what you’re drawing.”

Izaya thinned his lips, unsure if he should allow such a thing. It would be kind of ridiculous to have Shizuo follow him into the kitchen for not even a minute…

“Okay.” Psyche agreed, and Izaya started.

_That was certainly unexpected._

Feeling as if he were in a surreal dream, he trudged into the kitchen, carefully listening for any ensuing trouble. He poured Psyche his drink slower than intended, mind drifting away as it always did, to when Psyche drank from a bottle, in his arms.

 

* * *

 

 

_Four years ago_

 

 

“Ssshhh.” Izaya hushed softly, gently bobbing up and down to soothe the bundle in his arms. “It’s okay Psyche-chan, Mommy is getting you your milk now.” At times like this, he’d envied mothers who had the convenience of breast milk. He usually had them prepared, but Psyche had been particularly clingy that day.

“Do you want me to hold him?”

The sudden voice made him jump, and he scowled at Shizuo as he emerged from the darkness, clad only in a pair of boxers.

“Did I wake you?” The blond had been sleeping on his couch ever since he moved in. They’d recently progressed to the point where Izaya could speak with him cordially.

“Give him to me.” Shizuo ordered, ignoring the question.

Ah. So he had woken him.

“I’m fine.” Izaya said curtly, struggling to open the milk. “Go back to sleep. You have work tomorrow.” He heard Shizuo give a sigh, and lurched in surprise when Psyche was forcefully plucked from his grip. “What are you doing?” He hissed venomously. “Give him back!”

But Shizuo was already cradling Psyche. He had been horribly awkward at it, at first. Not a natural to fatherhood, but his perseverance had ultimately won out in the end. Still, Izaya retained a feeling of franticness, even though it was mostly dulled now. “What’s got you so upset, little man?” Shizuo rumbled warmly at the sniffling baby.

“He’s been fussy all day.” Izaya huffed, reluctantly continuing with his bottle preparation.

“Is he sick?”

“I’ve checked his temperature, and he’s not exhibiting any signs of illness. But, maybe-“

“It’s one o’clock in the fucking morning.” Shizuo grumbled. “You’re not calling Shinra.”

“One would think,” Izaya sniffed disdainfully. His eyes felt like sandpaper, and his entire body was throbbing with a constant ache. “That you’d know by now that babies don’t have sleeping schedules the same as us.”

Shizuo forewent answering, instead attempting to calm Psyche, whose cries had increased in volume since he was separated from Izaya. He bobbed the baby up and down, rubbing Psyche’s back and making gruff shushing noises.

Izaya reluctantly allowed this, if only so he could warm up the formula faster. He waited as the microwave ticked downwards, fisting his dry eyes and forlornly remembering a time when he could sleep for a whole two hours without a clingy baby clutching him. Once the formula was done, he screwed on the lid and tested the heat on his wrist.

His first time preparing a bottle, hands wobbling with nerves and tiredness, he had accidentally slopped the milk down his wrists, the scalding liquid inciting a hiss. He’d felt _awful_. And it wasn’t because he was still hurting from that horrible cesarean (which had taken six damned weeks to properly heal), or because he hadn’t had the chance to shower after Psyche had vomited on him earlier, nor was it because after the last few days he’d been at Celty and Shinra’s, (relying on them whilst he was recovering) he finally realized how _hard_ doing all of this alone was going to be. It was because if he hadn’t split the formula, he would have burnt Psyche. His negligence would have resulted in his precious baby being hurt, all because he hadn’t had the sense to check the temperature of a stupid bottle of formula. After that, he’d scoured through the parenting books Shinra had purchased for him, the ones he’d snobbishly ignored and discarded on the lower half of his bookshelf. He’d read when he could, doing research on the web as well. Most of it though, came from experience. Asides from the ‘natural mother’ instincts he’d always been skeptical about until he’d had Psyche.

Now, he was pedantic about checking the temperature of formula, often doing it again on the other wrist just to make sure he wasn’t wrong. Shizuo knew how to prepare a bottle now as well (learning after insisting Izaya teach him) and it had perturbed Izaya immensely when the blond had taken to the task easier than him, not even having to be instructed about testing the temperature of the formula. He’d been snappish about the whole thing, and Shizuo had been left frustrated and confused.

A common emotional combination between the two these days.

Izaya held his arms out for Psyche, and Shizuo immediately handed him over. He understood that feeding was somewhat an intimate experience for the stalled informant, and honestly preferred to leave the process of feeding and burping to Izaya. Psyche had a tendency to vomit on him, and for the life of him Shizuo couldn’t figure out _why_. Maybe he burped a little bit too hard…

Psyche suckled from the nipple of the bottle, quieting as his seemingly constant hunger was appeased.

Izaya couldn’t hold back a weary smile, and he cooed at his son. “Is that better, baby?” Out of his peripherals, Izaya caught sight of Shizuo’s shadowed form. The kitchen was illuminated dimly, and the finer features of his face were hidden. “He’ll probably go back to sleep soon. You can leave. You need rest.” Just to make sure he wasn’t sounding concerned, he went on. “I know you have that pathetic excuse of a job to keep.” He pointedly turned away, and gasped in surprise when strong arms wrapped around his body, Shizuo draping over his form, and carefully avoiding Psyche. His broad hands swept gently across the bare skin of Izaya’s chest.

Izaya closed his eyes at the sensation. Shizuo’s hands were warm. His mind was screaming at him to distance himself, but he was tired and his muscles were tense and Shizuo’s ministrations felt amazing.

“You need to relax more.” Shizuo rumbled gently. “Rely on me. I’m his father.” His hands lingered lower, down his chest and past his abdomen. “I’m your _lover_.”

Izaya opened his mouth to argue, but gasped when Shizuo’s hands swept lower and clutched at a scar. “Don’t.” He protested weakly. “Don’t. It’s-“

“Beautiful.” Shizuo lowered his head to kiss softly at the skin of Izaya’s neck. His hot breath made Izaya shudder as he spoke. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s ugly.” Izaya said stubbornly. “And permanent.” The colour had faded somewhat, but the scar would remain marring his skin forever. “It’s disfiguring me.” He felt self-conscious about the scar, and never displayed his bare skin anymore, always wearing a shirt to conceal it. In his haste to feed Psyche, he had forgotten. Shizuo had glimpsed it before, of course. The brute had no comprehension of privacy and boundaries, often entering Izaya’s room when he was changing and waltzing into the bathroom with Psyche when Izaya was showering. Not to mention urinating when Izaya was bathing Psyche. It was like the brute thought they were _married_ or something. Izaya shuddered at the mere thought, and Shizuo crushed him to his chest, mistaking the movement as Izaya being cold.

“It’s a reminder of the baby you carried.” He said. “Consider it a proud scar.”

Izaya had never thought about it before, and adjusted Psyche to one arm to ghost his other hand over the scar. Saying it that way, made him feel content. Even proud…

For all their insults, Shizuo certainly knew how to make Izaya feel good, and not just in the bedroom. Or on the couch. Or on the desk. Or on any surface sturdy enough to handle his weight. Thinking about that side of their relationship was enough to get his dick stirring, even in his exhausted state. Thankfully, it was too dark for Shizuo to notice. Or the brute was being kind enough not to mention it. Either way, he was grateful. Shizuo was toeing a firm line, and crossing it completely would only end up being disastrous. The consequences would be momentous…right?

Izaya returned his other arm to support Psyche, and he focused on the baby’s adorable features. Even in his infancy, the baby resembled him heavily. He wondered if that frustrated Shizuo. But perhaps the brute wasn’t vain enough to care about something so superficial. Izaya would, if he were in Shizuo’s position. Nursing a baby that looked like the brute would illicit conflicting feelings of love and dislike. The baby wouldn’t be Shizuo, but it would be a constant reminder of him. Oh god, he hoped Shizuo didn’t feel that way about Psyche…

Izaya allowed the man to clutch at him until Psyche had drained his bottle, and then firmly pushed him away to burp the baby, discarding the bottle near the sink. Shizuo allowed the movement, even though Izaya’s most extreme force wouldn’t be capable of making him budge an inch. “Go back to bed.” Izaya instructed once more, patting Psyche on the back in an upright position. “You’ll be grumpy tomorrow otherwise, and you’re already a disagreeable beast on the best of days.”

“Look who’s talking.” Shizuo muttered, but didn’t call Izaya out on being somewhat of a hypocrite. Izaya was plenty snarky these days. It must have come with being a sleep-deprived mother who had no time alone. Shizuo admired him for his patience. He himself would have snapped long ago. “You should get some rest too. Although I guess that’s a little hard for you, am I right?”

“Yes, you are.” Izaya replied caustically. “You are perfectly right in your obvious assumption. A clingy baby correlates to little rest.”

“If you want, I could call Tom and ask him for the day off. He’d probably say yes.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Izaya snapped. “Do you really think he’ll believe you can’t come work because you knocked me up, I delivered a baby, and that you want to take care of said baby whilst I rest and recuperate?”

“He doesn’t have to know all of the details.”

“I don’t need your help.” Izaya refuted. “So thanks, but no thanks.”

“Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?” Shizuo growled, and Izaya glared at him when Psyche made a frightened squall. “You never accept help-“

“I accepted Shinra and Celty’s. And Namie.” Although the woman had been absent lately, as he had ordered her to stay away for a bit whilst he adjusted to being a parent. He didn’t want her to morph into an unwilling mother. _He_ was Psyche’s mother, and he felt rather territorial over the position.

“Only when you absolutely need to. Otherwise you just act like a self-absorbed asshole who can’t swallow his pride and admit he needs assistance. Do you think it’s good for Psyche when you let yourself get this run down?”

It was probably a rhetorical question, but Izaya answered anyhow. It was the principle that mattered. “You don’t know anything that’s good for Psyche.” He hissed. “You have no right to lecture me.”

“Actually, I do.” Shizuo drawled matter-of-factly. “I’m his father, and that gives me the right. I may not be the perfect dad, with the great job and the suburban house, but I still love Psyche just as much as you. That gives me a right to offer opinions on your parenting.” He finished resolutely. “And I say if you keep pushing yourself unnecessarily your health is going to decline and either you or Psyche is going to end up hurt.”

“I say you’re wrong.” Izaya rebutted icily. “And that you only care about Psyche out of some beastly, obligatory need.” Izaya knew that wasn’t true. He’d seen the pure adoration in Shizuo’s eyes when he’d first met Psyche, and knew the brute wasn’t doing all of this out of some need or obligation. But he had been angry and flustered, and knew that the man was _right_. At least on a couple of levels. If help was readily available, why not take it and save himself the agony? It would certainly make raising the child easier. Although he’d never felt that looking after Psyche was unpleasant. In fact it was the opposite. A tender, enlightening experience that strengthened their bond and emphasised their love.

“I know you don’t believe that.” Shizuo said unaffectedly. “You’re a shitty liar when you’re tired, louse.”

Just another reason to get some more sleep.

There was a silence as Psyche was burped, and once the baby was finished Izaya swept past Shizuo for the bedroom, where he’d cuddle Psyche until he fell asleep, and try to follow his lead. Albeit without the cuddles. He’d changed Psyche before he came downstairs, so he didn’t have to worry about that for now.

“That bed must feel lonely.” Shizuo commented, and Izaya rolled his eyes with a snort.

“A bed is never lonely with a baby in it.” It was almost smothering at times.

“Why don’t you put him in the crib?”

Ah. The crib. One of the many pieces of baby furniture Shinra and Celty (mostly Celty) had assembled for him. Izaya wasn’t very good at putting items together, although he managed well enough with pieces of technology like computers and televisions. He had to replace televisions frequently, as they tended to ‘malfunction’ when he was out. Izaya hadn’t bothered to confront Namie about her pouring water over them yet. He had enough money to keep replacing them and the ensuing argument would be tedious. She hadn’t done it since he had become a loner in his apartment for the duration of the pregnancy. Which was good because a moody, strawberry craving informant was not the best candidate for unpacking and assembling large televisions.

“He cries for me.” Izaya explained, for the countless time.

“Isn’t that kind of dangerous? Like not recommended?”

Izaya felt a barrage of guilt. It _wasn’t_ recommended. Co-sleeping was not the recommended method for sleeping infants, but he was always extra careful and always had Psyche in his arms or on his chest. He never had him in the bed beside him, and there were no hazards. “It depends on who you ask.” Izaya answered honestly, for once. “Some people think it’s perfectly fine, others believe it poses a higher risk for SIDS.” He felt nauseous at the mention of the word. His baby dying terrified him immensely, and he was always waking up to check on him out of paranoia and worry.

“What’s-“

“Look it up.” Izaya stalked away from the hapless man. “I’m not going to educate you on something you should already know as a parent.” That, and speaking about it made him nervous. He didn’t want to discuss it unless he absolutely had to. He’d read about SIDS in one of his parenting books, a couple of weeks after he’d been sleeping with Psyche in his arms on the bed. It had made him feel inadequate. Like an idiot. There were so many things about being a parent he didn’t _know_ , and it seemed like there was always an influx of new information to read and memorize.

“Goodnight.” Shizuo called after him quietly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

_Yeah,_

Izaya had thought irritably.

_After you wake up from a restful sleep, whilst I’m occupied with Psyche._

How restful was it really, sleeping on the couch whilst the mother of your child was mulishly disregarding help? Izaya could have at least shared the bed.

 

* * *

 

 

Surfacing from the vivid memory with a sharp shake of his head, Izaya returned the milk to its rightful place in the fridge, and carried the cup back into the lounge/toy area, where Psyche was beaming cutely up at Shizuo, but the entire scene was off. Psyche’s beam wasn’t genuine. His eyes were glinting, and the sweet smile wasn’t sincere. That, and Shizuo’s temple was throbbing and his jaw was clenched.

_Seriously? I leave for under five minutes and already Psyche has gotten mischievous. I should have known there was something suspicious about him willingly spending time with Shizu-chan. Just one of his silly little tactics. I’m so proud._

His son was clever, and knew how to play the people around him when he wanted. It would have hurt Izaya, if he didn’t understand that trait so well.

“Here you go, Psyche-chan.” Izaya said, striding over to the little table and placing down the cup of milk carefully. In the centre of the table, so Psyche didn’t accidentally bump it down onto the fresh carpet Namie had had cleaned before their arrival. He took the opportunity to look down at the piece of paper Psyche had been drawing on, and raised his eyebrows. “Oh?” He voiced curiously. “What’s this?”

Psyche angled a much more genuine smile at him, and held up the picture for Izaya to examine more closely. “It’s me and you again.” He chirped, jabbing a finger at the two crudely drawn figures.

“What’s this?” Izaya questioned, indicating to a circular red scribble that dominated the bottom half of the page. He had an idea, but he wanted to hear it directly from Psyche. He’d never known the boy to be so morbid. Usually he stuck to drawing simple things, which ended up near unrecognisable, such as flowers, butterflies, clouds, and the sun. He was also trying to replicate characters, which Izaya always praised him for.

“That’s Shizuo.” Psyche predictably said, confirming Izaya’s expectation. “He’s all bloody and hacked up because I used one of your knives to cut him.” Audaciously, he stuck his pink tongue out at Shizuo again, causing the man to grind his teeth audibly.

He really shouldn’t laugh. He _shouldn’t_. It would encourage other similar incidents.

But…

_My son is hilarious._

So he let out a high-pitched, airy laugh, which invoked a giggle from Psyche and more teeth grinding from Shizuo. “I couldn’t resist it.” He got out when he had finished. “Psyche-chan has quite the imagination, ne? Although,” He sobered here, sending his son a sharp look. “You will **_not_** be playing with my knives, or any knives for that matter, anytime soon.”

Psyche pouted, moping.

_Like mother like son, he wants to slice up Shizuo Heiwajima._

It was drastically unusual for Psyche, who wouldn’t dream of expressing such violent desires towards anyone else.

Not liking to see Psyche sulk, Izaya offered something that would cheer the boy up. “Why don’t you give your father a demonstration of your singing skills? I’m sure he’d love to hear your beautiful singing voice.”

Psyche silently shook his head, taking a long sip of milk.

_That’s strange. He’s not usually shy._

“How about you show him your instruments? And play them as well.”

Another wordless shake of the head.

Izaya wanted this visit to go as quickly and painlessly for Psyche as possible, but it seemed Psyche wasn’t taking the same approach.

“I just want to watch my movie, Mommy.” He said.

“Okay.” Izaya agreed easily.

_He can do whatever will cause him the least amount of stress. He’s clearly not ready to interact with Shizu-chan yet. Well, outside of plans to insult him._

Psyche picked up his cup of milk, returning to the couch to resume watching the movie.

Izaya could feel Shizuo’s burning glare, and rolled his eyes when the blond entered his space to speak to him. “Ever heard of a thing called personal space, Shizu-chan?”

“He called me a _‘mean asshole_.’” Shizuo informed angrily. “Where has he been learning that kind of language from?”

Izaya regarded him blankly. “I don’t know the correct source and honestly I don’t mind too much. As long as he doesn’t go cussing at random people on the street.” At Shizuo’s exasperated look, he went on. “They’re just _words_ , Shizu-chan. He’s merely expressing himself.”

“Of all the…” Shizuo trailed off, grumbling something to himself unhappily. “He also said I should ‘ _watch myself’_ as his gramps and grandpa where in a big gang and could have me killed if I did something to hurt you or him.”

_Intimidation tactics. Wow. Shizu-chan brings out a new side of Psyche. I’d be more concerned if I knew he actually had hardness in his heart._

But Psyche was softer and sweet. There was no risk of him morphing into Izaya the second, even if they resembled one another physically and shared similar traits.

“Have you been introducing our son to the Yakuza?”

“We’ve been traveling with Shiki and Akabayashi for four years. It’s only natural he knows that they’re part of an organisation. He doesn’t know what it entails though. They never spoke business around him.”

_What happened to having faith in me?_

“He also said he hated me and wished I’d disappear forever.” Shizuo murmured dejectedly, shoulders hunching downwards in disappointment.

If he was expecting sympathy, he would be disappointed.

“I can’t help you with that.” Izaya said bluntly. “That’s how Psyche feels.”

“For some reason I expected him to be excited to see me…”

_I’m feeling a sense of Dejavu._

 

* * *

 

 _Four years ago_   

 

“Try again.”

Izaya huffed in annoyance. “Shizu-chan, he doesn’t want-“

“Try. Again.”

Huffing once more, Izaya carefully handed over his precious bundle, and was left unsurprised when Psyche immediately began crying, big fat droplets leaking from his eyes.

Shizuo was left standing awkwardly, arms extended and holding the baby away from his body. “I just don’t get it!” He growled exasperatedly. “He doesn’t do this for Shinra and Celty!”

“That’s because they’ve known him since he was born.” Izaya explained for the countless time, his patience wearing thin. They’d been playing this ridiculous game for about an hour now. Him handing over Psyche, the baby howling for his mother, and then taking him back when Shizuo’s efforts to console him failed dismally. Psyche had been doing this ever since Shizuo had first tried to hold him. Almost as if Shizuo’s presence was repelling somehow. “Shinra delivered him, and Celty helped me take care of him after the C-Section. They pick him up when they visit as well. You’re an unfamiliar oddity.”

“I’m his _father_.” Shizuo corrected tightly. “Shouldn’t he have some baby instincts that make him recognize me?”

“He has to _know_ you.” Izaya said.

“How can he know me when he cries every time I hold him?”

Izaya rolled his eyes once more. He did it so often he was surprised they didn’t get stuck. “You have no concept of patience, do you?” Not being able to stand the squalling anymore, Izaya tugged him away. Psyche quieted down immediately, and Izaya kissed the baby on his button nose. Unable to resist, he kissed him again, this time on the forehead. Then the cheek, then the other cheek, then the nose again…

“I never pictured you as an affectionate mother.” Shizuo’s voice was amused.

No. He never pictured Izaya as loving _anything_. Izaya was just the cold, heartless bastard, who would rather throw a baby on the streets than raise it himself, let alone with so much love. No. He was a bothersome pest to Shizuo. Even now.

“I don’t care.” Izaya said flatly.

“You’re perfect.”

This makes Izaya start.

“The perfect mother, and a perfect son. I want to be a good father.”

The sincerity was sickening.

“You can’t force this.” Izaya said, voice tight. “You can’t just expect Psyche to suddenly form a connection with you. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Then I’ll keep trying.” Shizuo said determinedly.

 

* * *

 

 

_You formed that connection with him. And then you tarnished it._

“He’s not ready.” Izaya said truthfully. “I don’t know if he ever will be, Shizu-chan.”

“I’ll never stop trying.”

Still with that sickening sincerity.

Only this time Izaya wasn’t going to fall for it again.

Fall for _him_ again.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter contains the rest of the meeting with Shizuo. I hope you enjoyed reading. (Please) Review if you would like, as the reviews encourage me to keep going. No pressure though.
> 
> See ya.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo's first visit continues and concludes, and Izaya makes compromises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Here is another update, published sooner than I thought.  
> Thank you to everyone who commented and left Kudos! Reading your feedback is a good way to keep motivated. I'm also glad that many people are noticing the flaws in each character, particularly the parenting methods. I intend for the characters to work through their issues. It's all part of the fun ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

Shizuo’s handsome face was hard with determination. “I want to see him every day.”

It was a gutsy request, and Izaya snickered at the pure audacity.

“Try once a week.” Izaya corrected.

“Five times.”

“Three times.”

“Twice.” Izaya returned his stare unblinkingly. “Final offer, Shizu-chan.”

“Fine.” Shizuo got out from between clenched teeth. “But I choose the days.”

“Mommy, I’m hungry.” Psyche’s voice interrupted their quiet argument. “Can I have a snack?”

Izaya glanced upwards at the clock on the far wall, and felt horribly neglectful. “I’ll make you a snack, Psyche-chan.” He said. “What would you like?”

“Strawberry ice-cream!”

“That isn’t very nutritious.” Izaya replied, with an exasperated smile. “How about some onigiri?”

“Yuck.” Psyche pulled a face. “Borsht?”

_This kid and his high standards. I guess that’s what happens when you travel the world sampling different cuisines. He finds rice bland._

Izaya knew how to make the dish. It was relatively simple, once you got the hang of it. However he didn’t relish the idea of cooking something more intricate with Shizuo breathing down his neck. It was a recipe for disaster, literally.

Psyche must have sensed his mother’s hesitation, because he requested something else quickly. “Can I have a parfait, then? With strawberries? Please?” Psyche’s pink eyes were round and wide, and Izaya found himself unable to deny him.

“You had strawberries for breakfast.” Izaya reminded.

“But fruit is healthy!”

“Not if you gorge on one fruit specifically, Psyche-chan. You need to find a healthy balance.” Despite his mild chiding, Izaya was already heading to the kitchen. A parfait was a relatively healthy option. It had fruit, yogurt, and granola. All foods that were considered nutritious, as long as the yogurt wasn’t filled with sugar.

Izaya didn’t mind parfaits, as long as they weren’t overly sweet. He’d eaten them a lot when they were staying in France.

_Should I offer one for Shizu-chan?_

It would be rude not to, and he wanted to set a good example for Psyche…

“Have you eaten?” He asked of the blond, snappish.

Shizuo had been observing the exchange carefully, and he balked somewhat at being addressed so directly. “That’s generous of you.” He said flatly.

“That wasn’t a confirmation.” Izaya replied, eyes narrowed.

_Well, I asked. I’m not going to pester him to eat. I already have one child to mother._

If Shizuo wanted to be a father, he had to goddamn act like one.

“Wait.” Shizuo caught Izaya’s thin arm when he turned away. “I was just joking, you melodramatic fl-“ He cut himself off abruptly, feeling Psyche’s critical stare. “Yeah.” He answered clearly. “Thanks.” He added as an afterthought. “Do you need help, or something?”

“ _I’ll_ help you Mom!” Psyche proclaimed, scrambling from the lounge and over to Izaya. “I’ll help you with the strawberries and blueberries.”

Izaya beamed at his son, running a hand through his dark locks affectionately. “Thank you, Psyche-chan. But you don’t have to. You can keep watching your movie-“

“I _want_ too.” Psyche persisted mulishly.

Like all children, Psyche tended to be more of a hazard than a help in the kitchen, but Izaya never wanted to deter him from assisting. Psyche’s thoughtfulness was a trait Izaya admired.

“You stay out here.” Izaya commanded Shizuo icily, no doubt crushing the man’s dreams of cooking in the kitchen like a family from cheesy television programs. “I don’t care what you do, just don’t break anything.” He moved forward, whispering to Shizuo so Psyche couldn’t hear. “And no snooping. If I catch you in my room you’re not coming back.”

The room was private territory. If he was going to be sharing the apartment with the brute, even for a few temporary hours, he didn’t want it invaded. It was his space.

“Same rules as last time, then.” Shizuo quipped, with a dry smirk.

Izaya didn’t dignify that with a response, seizing Psyche’s hand and yanking him into the relative privacy of the kitchen. He started assembling the ingredients required, and Psyche dragged over the step-stool Namie had purchased. Izaya pulled out three, wide glasses (grateful that Namie had stowed everything away the same as last time), and began to create the parfait, putting dollops of unsweetened, plain yogurt into the glasses. He let Psyche sprinkle the granola, and efficiently sliced up the strawberries deftly. Once he was done, he watched the boy as he inserted the fruit in the middle layer, before filling in the final layer and allowing Psyche to garnish the top.

_I guess I should be grateful for Namie’s excessive strawberries purchase._

Izaya thought, as he regarded the final product. Psyche was chatting away, as usual, but his uncomfortableness with Shizuo’s presence was hindering his ability to pay attention.

It irritated him. This entire _situation_ irritated him.

And the reassurance that is was only for ‘six months’ wasn’t enough for him.

Izaya pulled out a tray from one of the drawers. It was typically used for when Psyche got ill or unwell, but today he would use it to transport the parfaits. Carefully, he placed the parfaits on the tray, and easily balanced its weight on one hand. “They look lovely, Psyche-chan.” He said, realizing he had yet to compliment the boy’s work.

Psyche preened at the praise, and Izaya carried the tray to the dining table.

Shizuo looked up when they came out of the kitchen. He had been glaring at the television, probably irritated by all of the singing.

_He wouldn’t survive a week here. There’s never quiet when Psyche is around._

He’d probably be accustomed to it, if he hadn’t destroyed their relationship.

The brute followed them to the dining table, awkwardly sitting at the head (which caused Izaya to roll his eyes and scoff, _honestly_.)

Izaya left a space between them, and Psyche sat at his side, eagerly reaching for his parfait. Numbly, Izaya followed suit.

It had been years since they had last eaten together like this…

 

* * *

 

 

It had taken a while for the hostile atmosphere to morph into something more amiable, but when it eventually had, after snarling and snapping and arguments (and some broken kitchenware), it became incredibly warm. Not always pleasant (how could it be, when they were who they were?) but always warm.

Like a real family.

No. Not like.

They _were_ a real family.

It was so domestic, it almost made Izaya feel a little queasy.

Between juggling a clingy baby, he would prepare and cook dinner, laying it on the table. Shizuo usually returned home around that time (if not a little earlier) and he would collapse at the table, still clad in his work clothes (after greeting Psyche and Izaya with a mandatory kiss) and eat whatever Izaya had created (sometimes with complaint, as Izaya tended to cook overly healthy meals).

Izaya would clip Psyche into the highchair Celty had assembled (and the baby would cry and whine and grab for his mother) and he would feed the fussy baby dinner. Psyche usually calmed once he realised Izaya was right beside him, and normally ate without making too much trouble. Sure, he bluntly refused to eat some foods (and Izaya would coddle and coo, and even do that embarrassing aeroplane motion that always had Shizuo chuckling) but in the end Psyche’s plate would be relatively clear, his stomach full, and Izaya would settle the baby in his lap as he ate his own meal. Psyche would babble, and observe his parents, and Shizuo would comment every evening how much he resembled his mother. Then, he’d follow it with teasing about Izaya being ‘mommy’, and Izaya would usually brandish his chopsticks like they were an actual blade, a warning to keep his mouth shut lest he sleep on the lounge that night.

Like he’d said, horribly domestic.

But he still loved it.

He loved the warm routine, even when it tinged on icy, when either he or Shizuo were in a particularly snide mood and couldn’t stop bickering.

Or, commonly, when Shizuo accused Psyche of being misbehaved during meal times.

“Just open your damned mouth, already!” Shizuo gritted in frustration, glowering downwards at the beaming baby, who’s mouth was firmly shut. “You do it all the time for the flea, so why not your father, huh!?”

Psyche blinked upwards innocently.

“Don’t _growl_ at him.” Izaya said, his voice thick and nose red. He’d contracted the flu, and Shinra had ordered him to ‘rest and recuperate’. Hence, Shizuo had taken the week off of work and had been attempting (rather pitifully, Izaya might add) to perform the household duties and chores Izaya usually did. Which, included, taking care of Psyche.

The baby had been the one to infect Izaya, and the informant had suffered sleepless nights of worry as he nursed the fussy baby back to full help. Psyche had been unwell before, of course (even babies that didn’t go outside much still got sick) but Izaya still couldn’t help but feel concerned. Overly so. To the point of paranoia, an exasperated Shinra had frequently told him.

Psyche was a healthy baby, and one thing he seemed to have inherited from Shizuo, was his strong immune system. The beast didn’t get sick often, but when he did, he recovered quickly. Psyche didn’t have the same near-paranormal recovery rate, but he did get better a little faster than other babies Shinra had seen. This thrilled the doctor, of course. He blathered on for hours about how Psyche was interesting, the combination of two vastly different specimens. Sure, he may have been nearly all Izaya, but he still shared a few things in common with his father.

However, Izaya didn’t share that same little quirk. He was a healthy human (although he sniffily refused to regard himself as a regular one) and wasn’t overly susceptible to illness, but when he did catch a bug or a virus…

He went down hard. And he recovered slowly.

It was immensely infuriating, and tended to interfere with his job. He did whatever he could to avoid getting unwell, if only not to hear Shinra’s irritating exclamations about how ‘delicate’ he was whenever he went for medication or treatment.

Now it was more than infuriating. It was maddening, frustrating, and even a little depressing. He hated not being able to do the things he usually did. _Especially_ with Psyche. At first he’d refused to rest, but his state had deteriorated so rapidly that his stubbornness had cost him. He had no choice but to recover _properly_ now, lest he worsen his condition. If that occurred, he’d be out of commission for even _longer_.

So he resentfully resigned himself to ‘rest and recuperation’, sitting prone for hours, medicated and hazy, sipping at tea and sniffling into tissues. Shizuo was surprisingly okay about the whole thing, absolutely insisting that he be the one to care for both Psyche and Izaya (although Izaya honestly would have preferred to have Celty or Namie watch Psyche and leave him the hell alone whilst he got better) as well as taking time off work to make sure Izaya had the right amount of time to get better.

Vigor, Shizuo may have had, but he’d never cared for an ill person before, let alone an ill person and a clingy baby who was unaccustomed to spending the days plucked out of his mother’s arms. He did as Shinra instructed, and followed Izaya’s directions with Psyche. The baby adjusted to his presence steadily, but Shizuo’s homemaking skills were abysmal. His cleaning consisted of shoving dust under random objects, and leaving dishes in the washer. His cooking ranged from cupped ramen to gluggy rice (luckily, Izaya had had Namie cook meals from a menu he had created and freeze them) and with Psyche he was…

Impatient. A little hapless.

It wasn’t the man’s fault. It was only natural. Izaya was attuned to Psyche, having spent nearly every waking hour (and the sleeping ones as well) with the baby since his birth. He did most of the bathing, feeding, changing, and looked after him most of the time. Shizuo returned from work, and stayed home on his days off, but his time was limited compared to Izaya’s. Psyche knew this, was used to his mother, and didn’t particularly like the fact that his schedule had been changed. Nor did he like how Shizuo took twenty minutes to fit a diaper, or how the man didn’t understand the difference between his cries and whines, not to mention that his singing voice wasn’t as dulcet and pretty as his mommy’s…

He did adore playing with Shizuo, though. The man was less inclined to treat Psyche like a piece of glass, and had no hesitations about throwing him in the air and engaging in what Izaya would call…more adventurous play.

Shizuo took advantage of Izaya’s feeble voice to play games Izaya didn’t exactly approve of. The informant was too hoarse to protest outside of weak mutterings.

Now though, he was feeling somewhat better, and his voice could be distinguished. He could also sit upright without feeling woozy and his skull pounding like it’s about to split apart.

“He keeps doing this!” Shizuo protested, still glaring down at the baby. “Every time you’re in the room he won’t eat when I try and feed him!”

“You’re lucky he’s eating at all.” Izaya replied tartly. “And not howling.”

Like the first few times Shizuo had tried to feed Psyche with Izaya glaringly absent…

“He isn’t eating.” Shizuo’s jaw was clenched, a temple throbbing noticeably. “He won’t even open his fucking mouth.”

“Such horrid language in front of the baby.” Izaya mock-chided, an exhausted smirk stretching across his pasty skin. “I thought you said such profanity was _inappropriate_ for children. Yet, you’re the one who most frequently resorts to it…”

“Louse…” Shizuo addressed, in a warning snarl.

Izaya rolled his eyes, and his head throbbed at the action. “Don’t worry.” He made to stand. “I’ll feed him.”

“Sit your ass down!” Shizuo commanded, his face briefly flashing with something akin to worry. “You know what that glasses wearing lunatic said about you moving around too much!”

Another roll of the eyes, even though it _ached_. Shizuo’s angry voice was making his head hurt. “Then bring the highchair over here.”

“No.” Shizuo denied resolutely. “That’s just what Psyche wants.”

“Obviously.” Izaya drawled. How thick was this monster? He was immensely glad Psyche had received most of his genes.

“He can’t get what he wants by throwing a tantrum.”

Izaya snorted, and the motion hurt his raw throat. “Have you ever seen a tantrum, you protozoan? They don’t involve quiet children with cute little half-smiles.” He gave his own smile at Psyche, who was curiously watching the proceedings.

“Psyche’s different.”

“Of course he is.” Izaya scoffed. “He came out of a man. Plus,” He softened. “He’s special.”

“He’s not like those other kids. Sure, he has tantrums, but most of the time he pulls stunts like...” He made a gesture with a broad hand. “ _This_.”

Izaya regarded Shizuo like he was the dumbest thing he had ever beheld, and it only increased Shizuo’s irritation.

“He _knows_ if he plays around like this I’ll get pissed off and hand him over to you. He’s observed and established that this is true. So now he’s doing it on purpose to get what he wants. Like a certain someone else I know.” His tone wasn’t exactly complimentary.

“Psyche doesn’t have a conniving bone in his body.” Izaya snapped.

“I didn’t say he was conniving-“

“You implied so. You practically implicitly stated he’s manipulative.”

“I know he doesn’t have malicious intentions.” Shizuo said. “He’s just like any other brat trying to get his own way, only this brat is more strategic about it.” He frowned fiercely at Psyche, who remained unflinching. “Bad baby.” He scolded in a grumble, pressing the spoon to Psyche’s clenched lips once more. “Open up.” Gruffly, he performed the actions he always mocked Izaya for. “Open wide for the aeroplane.” He zoomed the spoon around, and Psyche’s eyes tracked the movement. For a moment, his lips parted, but just as Shizuo moved it closer, sensing victory, he closed them firmly once more. “You little shit!”

“Speaking of shit.” Izaya stated, unable to hide the return of his smirk. Psyche, like him, was capable of incensing Shizuo, although the man would never hurt Psyche. “Psyche probably needs to be changed by now. I can smell him from over here.”

Shizuo groaned. He _detested_ changing Psyche’s diapers. It was possibly the worst experience he had ever undergone, and he had firsthand sampled Celty’s cooking. Not only was dealing with the mess thoroughly unpleasant, but he wasn’t adapt at the procedure. And Psyche didn’t make it any easier, with his squirming. Even post-change was aggravating, as he had to refit Psyche’s clothing. Also, he had a tendency to put the diapers on wrong. This had resulted in extremely disgusting spillage once or twice. “The sooner you recover,” He grunted, picking up the baby and holding him at arms-length. “The sooner things will be better. How do you _dea_ l with this all of the time?”

Izaya regarded him evenly, eyebrows raised. “You really don’t give me enough credit.”

When Shizuo returned, the two of them sipped at reheated tomato soup, and Izaya fed a cheerful Psyche, as Shizuo had relented and moved the highchair over. The warm soup felt comforting on his throat, and Izaya felt toasty and warm under the blanket draped around his skinny shoulders. This, he had thought with satisfaction, he definitely enjoyed. Even when he was sick. He wanted things to stay like this forever.

 

* * *

 

 

“Mommy?”

“Mom?”

“Izaya!”

The two voices broke him out of his reverie, and he shook his head harshly. “What?” He said, sharper than intended.

Psyche shrunk back slightly. “…We forgot the spoons.”

Izaya’s face suddenly felt rather hot, and not just because he felt ashamed for startling his son. What kind of picture was he painting for Shizuo? A mother who couldn’t even provide his child with simple cutlery. The beast probably thought Psyche ate with his hands, now. “Sorry, darling.” Izaya apologised, getting to his feet immediately. He dropped a kiss on Psyche’s forehead to sooth his jittery nerves. “I’ll get them now.” He avoided Shizuo’s heavy stare, and hurried to the kitchen, grabbing three spoons and returning to the table. He handed them out, and sat back down, sinking his into the creamy surface of the parfait. He wasn’t particularly hungry. In lieu of eating, he watched Psyche practically devour his, sending the enthusiastic boy a firm look to remind him of his manners, smiling afterwards in reward when he slowed his pace.

Shizuo ate fast, as well, but considerably more neatly. It wasn’t at all graceful like Izaya (who ate with a kind of pretty dignity that made Shizuo scoff), but it didn’t make Shizuo resemble the brute he behaved like. “That was good.” He praised gruffly, when the only thing remaining in his glass was granola. His eyes lingered on Izaya’s scrawny figure, before he spoke in a command. “Stop playing with your food and _**eat.**_ ”

Izaya dropped his spoon instantly, cheeks flooding with heat once more.

_How dare he treat me like a child! In front of Psyche, no less!_

He wanted to snap at the man, but forced the acidic response back down his throat.

“You’re too damned skinny.” Shizuo continued to grumble. “Practically a twig. I could break you in half with one hand.”

And, just like that…

“You could do that before.” Izaya shot back, acidic in the extreme. “There’s no real difference now, is there?”

Evidently, it had been the wrong thing to say. Psyche had stiffened at Shizuo’s words, and lunged at Izaya after hearing his reply. His arms clutched as tight as they could, and the boy glowered at his father with a mixture of fear and determination. “I won’t let you!” His voice was wobbling a little. “Y-you’re bad!”

Shizuo was taken-aback. “I didn’t mean-“

_Today has gone far enough. You can’t force progress._

“I think this visit has concluded.” Izaya informed coolly. “You can come back on another day this week, of your choosing, as we agreed. Just don’t make it tomorrow. I’m taking Psyche to see Shinra and Celty.”

Shizuo frowned with worry. “Are you sure you remember the way?”

“I can navigate Tokyo with my eyes closed, Shizu-chan, even now. I’m not walking, anyhow.” Psyche was a lot more conspicuous now, and he wanted to shield him from prying eyes for a little longer. At least until the boy was more adjusted. This wasn’t like when they travelled to other places. Izaya was recognisable, here, and there was no denying that Psyche was obviously related to the renowned informant. “Namie is going to drive us. She still has a car.”

“I have a car.”

Izaya balked at the statement. “What?”

“I have a car.” Shizuo repeated, matter-of-fact. “I saved for one. I don’t use it that much though. I was…saving it.” He shrugged. “I could take you-“

“Namie is a capable driver.” Izaya turned down. He stood from his seat, and Psyche clambered upwards to join him, arms still holding his mother. “I’ll see you out.” Gently, he pried Psyche away. “Say goodbye to your father, Psyche.” He requested.

Psyche gave him an utterly resentful look. _**“Bye.”**_ He said, with as much attitude as he could muster.

Izaya didn’t bother scolding him for his tone. He couldn’t repress how Psyche was feeling, and he didn’t want to. The boy was obligated to his feelings. Izaya could only endeavour to make Shizuo’s visits as painless as possible.

Shizuo however, seemed to be expecting something, and scowled at the informant when he didn’t receive it. His scowl melted into a warm smile when he looked back at Psyche. “I’ll see you when I next visit, kid. Be a good boy for your Mom, okay?”

Such familiar wording, it floored Izaya for a moment, made his chest tight. He expelled a hard huff of air, as the father and son stared at one another wordlessly. “Come on.” Izaya said, heading for the door.

Shizuo followed, and watched as Izaya undid the locks (he insisted upon the utmost caution) before opening the door and gesturing rather rudely for him to leave.

“I’m so fucking happy to see you again.”

Clearly, the beast was unable to leave without comment. How annoying.

“I can’t say I return the sentiment.” Izaya refused to thaw.

“I’ve been dreaming about this day.”

“I’ve been dreading it.”

Shizuo gave an aggravated sigh. “You can hold a mean grudge, louse.” He leant forward then, mouth tinged with the slightest of blue from the berries. “But I intend to fix what I fucked up.” Quickly, before Izaya could anticipate his move, the monster gave him a fleeting, but rather heated, smooch on the lips.

It felt heavenly, and Izaya was so tempted to recapture it. Shizuo was rekindling all of those old feelings and passions, and he was doing so with relative ease. The informant truly hadn’t been prepared for this. Still, he managed to recover himself, lunging backwards. “You moronic monster!” He hissed, double-checking that Psyche hadn’t followed them. “If Psyche saw that he would have had a meltdown! Do you have no understanding of children!?”

Shizuo blinked unaffectedly. “He knows that I’m his father, and that you’re his mother. Shouldn’t that be reason enough?”

“Not when the father has been absent for so long!” Izaya gave another sigh, his head beginning to throb. His body was overcome with stress. “Just _**get out**_. This ordeal has been taxing enough without you screwing it up further.”

“Day after tomorrow.” Shizuo said, stepping into the hallway outside. “Mid-morning. I want Psyche to tell me about what the hell you two have been doing over the last few years. Then, I want to take him outside. Maybe to the park.”

“Psyche won’t agree to that.” Izaya said bluntly. “He won’t go anywhere with you alone.”

“I know. That’s why you’re going to come. We can do this as a family.”

Izaya snorted derisively. “Yeah, sure thing, _husband dear_.”

Shizuo stomped away then, mumbling about _‘antagonizing little pricks’_.

Izaya gave a real, stumped laugh as his form disappeared, and he shut the door. He leant against its solid surface for a moment, simply catching his breath and reassessing the morning. They had _survived_ Shizuo’s first visit. Without bloodshed or violence.

Sure, Psyche had been difficult (and Izaya as well) but it had really turned out not that bad.

“Are you going to be okay, Mom?” Psyche asked, padding into the room once he heard the door shut.

Izaya pushed away from the door, smiling his usual adoring smile. “I’m fine, Psyche-chan. I’m just going to clean up from lunch.”

“I’ll help!”

Izaya’s heart melted. “That’s kind of you to offer, baby, but Mommy can do it alone. Why don’t you play with your toys? Once I’m finished I’ll join you.”

_Psyche will need reassurance after these meetings, and attention._

Izaya still had to unpack some of his files and hard-drives, and set up the personal laptop he carried around everywhere, but all of that could wait.

Psyche came first.

And he always would.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed reading this. I don't know when I'll next update, but hopefully it will be within the next week or so. (Please) Review if you would like, but no pressure. 
> 
> See ya.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya continues introducing an excited Psyche to Tokyo, visiting 'Uncle Shinra' and 'Aunt Celty' 
> 
> How will this particular reunion progress?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to any readers! Here is another chapter. I struggled to write this so I hope you like it. If not, that's A-OK cause' we all have our opinions :)
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Psyche and Izaya's reunion with Celty and Shinra. The reunion will have two chapters and this is the first. This heralds the return of adorable, perky Psyche, since I've been missing him! No Shizuo here, but he will return soon! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

Since Psyche had been travelling most of his life, it didn’t take him long to settle into his new home.

He embraced it like all of its predecessors, particularly admiring the view.

He also liked the stairs, and had already scraped his knee by running down them. Izaya had given him a small lecture about running down stairs, as he always did when Psyche ran down things that ought not to be ran down. (Unless you were a flighty informant fleeing from enemies that was.)

Psyche had been expectedly remorseful, tears in his eyes, and Izaya had cuddled and cooed and affixed a small Band-Aid over the reddened surface of his left knee.

After that experience, there had been no hiccups with Psyche settling in. He was relatively used to adjusting to new time zones, and slept soundly after a day of exploring the apartment and playing with all of his toys.

Izaya was supposed to be resting in his time off, but couldn’t resist trying to pull some kind of menial job from the Awakusu. He attempted this by email, and received a stern call from Shiki not long thereafter.

(“I just wanted to do something by distance.”) He’d defended.

(“You’re overworking yourself because you’re stressed.”) Shiki had replied, knowing. (“Try a stunt like this again, Orihara, and I’ll have one of the men shoot you in the foot so you have no choice but to rest.”)

(“Then how would I take care of Psyche?”) He’d teased.

(“You’d manage.”) His voice had been stiffly dry, before it turned professional again. (“Now, about Heiwajima-“)

Izaya had forcibly informed the nosy mafia member that he had already initiated contact, and that yes, the brute had already paid his first visit. Shiki had sounded pleased, and he had ended the phone call promptly thereafter.

With Psyche asleep beside him, smelling of strawberry soap, he played with the phone in his hand, contemplating whether to pay The Dollars chatroom a visit. He hadn’t visited it for a while, and was curious to see whether it was still frequented.

_No. I don’t want to get sucked back into this city._

Tokyo was addictive, and he didn’t want to tempt himself. He would never be led astray from Psyche, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be inclined to stay a little longer if he started having fun with his familiar humans.

Determinedly, he set the phone aside on the bedside table, snuggling into his pillow and drifting off with Psyche cuddled into his side. He would need the energy, to face Shinra and Celty tomorrow. It would certainly be a tiring experience.

 

* * *

 

 

Psyche was overcome with excitement the following morning. From the moment he woke up, brimming with excitement, he had been babbling on about ‘meeting’ his aunt and uncle. Izaya had been sure to tell him many complimentary stories about the pair as Psyche grew up, and the boy had demanded to hear their stories many times. Like Izaya, he was fascinated by the concept of Celty being a mythical fairy, and having grown up with her headless state not being a secret, he wasn’t daunted by the Dullahan lacking a face. In fact, it seemed to make Psyche like her more.

He was dually as excited to see Shinra again. Psyche had heard funny anecdotes about the man, from their shared school years and beyond, and hearing his voice on the phone had reiterated that his non-biological uncle was a whacky, likable guy.

Izaya had taken the trouble to purchase two souvenirs for the pair during the course of their travels. Not overly expensive, nor overly large. He could have posted them, but he’d thought it would be too much of a risk.

Psyche had chosen them out. A CD of traditional Irish music for Celty (since he loved music so much) and a shamrock for Shinra. Both from Ireland, of course. They’d been in Ireland not long before Russia, and he had sensed an eventuality.

In a whirlwind of energy Psyche selected his own clothes and dressed, wearing his shirt inside out before Izaya had to correct him. Pink and white, an ever recurring theme. In some countries, boys wearing pink wasn’t exactly welcomed, but Izaya had always shielded Psyche from any ridicule or disdain. The informant was dangerous, especially when his motherly instincts were on full throttle, and most people seemed to sense that.

“Do they look nice?” Psyche probed his mother, holding the newly wrapped presents. Izaya had had Namie pick up some gift wrapping early that morning, and a few ribbons. Handing them over unwrapped would be shoddy, and Psyche enjoyed wrapping things. He was also rather good at it, as he had had practice helping Izaya wrap up and pack their belongings each time they moved over the years.

Both presents were encased in crisp white wrapping paper, pink bows firmly attached to the top. Psyche was looking at him expectantly, and Izaya smiled gently. “They look wonderful, sweetheart. Uncle Shinra and Aunt Celty are going to love them.”

Psyche beamed at the praise, and bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. “I’m so excited to see them, Mom! Do you think they’ll like me?”

“They’re going to love you.” Izaya proclaimed, with the utmost certainty. “They always have, and they always will.” No, it was _him_ they hated. He may have birthed Psyche, but that didn’t change the fact that he was still the informant responsible for tarnishing their lives on multiple occasions. Nor did it change the fact that he still held Celty’s head. He wondered if she was still searching…

“Are you okay, Mommy?” Psyche asked suddenly, his eyes crinkling in concern. “Are you nervous?”

_He’s too observant. Too much like me._

Izaya looked away then, brushing down his subtle outfit of dark slacks and a dark long-sleeved shirt. He’d gone without the coat. It was too distinctive, even now. Namie was driving them, but he didn’t want to run any risk of being recognised, even if he was only stepping outside of the car for a few short moments. That was all it took for someone to snap a picture or write a quick online post. “I’m fine, baby.” He assured.

“Are you worried Uncle Shinra and Aunt Celty are going to be mean?”

“There isn’t a mean bone in their bodies.” Izaya said. A partial lie. They had the ability to be mean, but it didn’t happen that often.

“Don’t worry Mommy, if they’re mean, I’ll protect you!”

_Oh Psyche._

Izaya couldn’t help but think with exasperation. Unlike Shinra and Celty, Psyche really didn’t hold the capability to be mean. The only exception to this, seemed to be Shizuo. “I’m not going to be hurt.” A phrase he seemed to be repeating a lot lately. “Psyche-chan, I want you to stop worrying about Mommy. Mommy can look after himself.”

Psyche seemed a little sceptical. It wasn’t exactly surprising, considering Izaya shielded the boy from seeing his more malicious side, but before he could persist, he heard the sound of jangling keys, and the lock turning on the door. “Namie-chan!” Psyche cheered, having been anticipating her arrival. He ran to the opening door, and wrapped his arms around her mid-section. He’d already done this once today, but Psyche was an affectionate child.

“Hello,” Namie greeted dully. “ _Again_.” Carefully, she pried away his hands. She tolerated his cuddly behaviour, having grown accustomed to it since his younger years. However, she didn’t necessarily love it. The long-haired woman looked to Izaya. “I fitted my vehicle with a car seat, as you instructed.”

“Safety first!” Izaya chimed. “Thank you, Namie.”

“Can we go now?” Psyche asked excitedly. “Please Mom, please!” He squeezed the presents in his eagerness.

“Don’t smother them.” Namie cautioned. “The paper will tear.”

“Oh.” Psyche loosened his hold immediately. “Now?”

Izaya couldn’t help but laugh. His son was so damned _adorable_. “Now we can go, Psyche. Hold my hand, please.”

Psyche rushed forward and grasped his hand, and Namie re-opened the door, leading them outside into the hall. The boy peered around curiously, not having had the chance to see outside since Akabyashi had carried him inside the night they had arrived.

Izaya knew it wasn’t much, especially compared to their other homes, but-

“YAY! An elevator!”

Psyche could always see the positive notes.

“Press the ground floor.” Namie instructed, when they stepped inside.

Psyche eagerly pressed the button.

_What is it with kids and elevators?_

Psyche bounced as they descended downwards, and once the elevator arrived, the two males exchanged cheeky smiles. “Go ahead.” Izaya permitted.

Psyche then commenced to push all of the remaining buttons until they lit up, and skipped from the elevator with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Honestly.” Namie huffed. “You two are so juvenile.”

“She means awesome.” Izaya corrected, winking at Psyche as the boy grasped his hand again. “Namie doesn’t understand the concept of _fun._ ”

“You’re a parent now.” Namie reminded snootily.

“Just because I’m a parent it doesn’t mean I have to become boring.” Izaya replied.

The car was waiting directly before the apartment complex, shiny and sleek. It was a more recent model that Namie had purchased to replace her older vehicle. Izaya pulled open the door, and Psyche clambered inside and plopped down into the car seat. Deftly, he buckled the little boy in safely. Double-checking that he was secured properly.

“I’m sitting in the front.” Izaya informed his son. “You look out the windows and have a look at Tokyo, okay? Tell me what you see.”

“Okay Mommy!” Psyche chirped obligingly.

Unable to resist, Izaya pecked his son on the forehead, before shutting the door firmly and sliding into the passenger seat. Namie was already starting the car, and momentarily fumbled with a case, before presenting Izaya with a pair of sunglasses. “The windows are tinted.” She said, by way of explanation. “But you should wear these just in case. I assume you don’t want to be recognised so soon.”

“Good idea.” Izaya praised, accepting the glasses and sliding them up his nose. They were made of cheap plastic, and dwarfed his face comically. He shifted in his seat, and smiled at his son. “Do I look cool, Psyche-chan?”

Psyche giggled. “You look like a bug, Mommy!”

Izaya turned back around, and buckled his own seatbelt. “Do you have the music?” He asked, as Namie began reversing off of the curb. Psyche liked listening to music in the car, and tended to get bored without having songs to sing to.

Namie rolled her eyes, murmuring something about Izaya ‘assuming she was incompetent’, before inserting a CD and pressing play. Immediately, the sound of cheerful music assaulted their ears, and Psyche cheered in the back, clearly happy with the selection.

With his son suitably distracted, Izaya took the time to take a few deep breaths. Once upon a time, he’d navigated Tokyo with the utmost confidence, unabashed and unafraid. Now, he was frightened of his past catching up with him in a horrible way. Psyche didn’t deserve to have Izaya’s past sins drag him down, and Izaya yearned to preserve his innocent outlook.

_Maybe it would have been better if I aged terribly. Then I wouldn’t be so easily recognized._

Even so, Psyche’s resemblance to him was uncanny. There was no mistaking his parentage.

“Japan is so busy, Mommy!” Psyche noted with awe, watching as the urban life of Tokyo bustled outside of the vehicle. “And there’s so many people!” Despite Psyche’s initial reservations about moving to Tokyo, Izaya could see his eyes sparkle in appreciation.

_Heh._

He thought dryly.

_Just like Mommy indeed._

Izaya listened to his son chatter about Tokyo as the drive progressed, commenting every minute or so to assure the young boy that he was listening. Despite his desire to remain perfectly composed, by the time he reached Celty and Shinra’s home his hands were lightly quaking. What if Celty took after Simon and decided to punch him? Psyche would be traumatized, and it would be an awful first impression.

“We’re here.” Namie pointed out, when he didn’t immediately disembark.

Izaya heard Psyche wriggling eagerly in his seat, and took one last breath before pushing the door open and stepping outside. Hurriedly, he rushed over to Psyche’s door, yanking it open and bundling the boy in his arms anxiously. His eyes flitted about skittishly, and he was glad to note the area was relatively sparse, with no figures he recognised. He scooped up the presents that had been sitting beside the boy, and spared Namie a quick wave before striding towards the apartment complex. “Stay still, Psyche.” Izaya said sharply, when the boy squirmed to be put down. “I’ll let you down in a second.”

“Mommy…are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Izaya immediately answered, cursing himself for his nerves.

_Get it together, Orihara. You aren’t **that** spineless._

When he reached the door to Shinra and Celty’s apartment, he allowed Psyche down, and pasted on his usual smirk as the boy knocked on the door loudly. He forced the unease down, and wasn’t remotely surprised when the door swung open near immediately. Shizuo wasn’t the _only_ person who had been waiting for them to return.

Shinra, like Shizuo, had aged well. The only notable difference in his appearance was that he was wearing his hair in a style more reminiscent of his father’s.

He still had the same unfashionable glasses. The same lab coat. The same goofy smile. That same goofy smile that was angled at them, as if this wasn’t a homecoming. As if it didn’t matter that Izaya had abandoned them four years ago.

In that moment, Izaya had never been fonder of Shinra.

The underground doctor opened his mouth. “Welcom-OOF!” Before Shinra could finish his greeting, he found himself near bowled over by the excited child. Psyche didn’t weigh much, but he was incredibly fast. Fast enough to knock people off balance.

“Careful, Psyche-chan!” Izaya cautioned, reaching out a hand to steady Shinra.

“Oh, sorry.” Psyche apologised sheepishly, looking upwards at Shinra with a smile. “I’m just so excited to meet you, Uncle Shinra!”

Shinra returned the embrace wholeheartedly, reaching down a hand to ruffle Psyche’s raven locks. “Well you know,” He said in a friendly voice. “We have met before. I delivered you from your mommy’s tummy.” At the mention of Izaya, Shinra made eye contact, and spared him a genuinely warm grin. “It’s good to see you again, Izaya. Really.”

_I’m sure some wouldn’t agree._

Izaya refrained from saying this, not wanting to startle Psyche. “You too, Shinra.” He chirped. “I’m afraid to say you look ghastly though. Very wrinkled.”

“Oh ha ha.” Shinra replied sarcastically. “I wish I could return the insult, but I’m sure you know how young you still look. You haven’t changed one bit. Asides from your weight.” The doctor eyed his figure critically, and Izaya rolled his eyes. What was with people and his weight? It wasn’t like he was starving himself. “How about we go inside?” Shinra suggested, standing aside to allow them space to properly come in. “We can catch up in the lounge.”

Psyche didn’t need another invitation. He darted inside, looking around the apartment with wonder and curiosity, no doubt trying to remember the place.

Izaya stepped inside much more reluctantly, and only after having glanced over his shoulder in paranoia. Once the door was shut, he removed the sunglasses, tucking them into his pocket. Shinra’s apartment hadn’t changed a great deal. Still bordering on clinical (Shinra taking his work home _literally_ ) and still with the same layout. The only difference were the photos that lined the walls. Mostly of Shinra and Celty together. He felt unease, but before he could open his mouth, Shinra spoke up, albeit, softly.

“Don’t worry. There’s none of you and Psyche. I know his birth is a private thing for you.”

Izaya nodded at the reassurance, and smiled when Psyche plopped downwards onto the lounge in the living area. “Manners, baby.” He chided lightly.

“Oh, right.” Psyche looked upwards at Shinra. “May I sit down, Uncle Shinra?”

“Of course.” Shinra agreed, eyeing the two presents still held in Psyche’s hands. He didn’t comment, however. “Are you two thirsty? I stocked up the fridge before you came.”

“Such a domestic husband.” Izaya said, falling back into the habit of teasing his friend naturally. “Do you wear an apron as well?”

“Look who’s talking, Mommy.” Shinra retorted, looking pointedly at the pink and white backpack Izaya carried about for Psyche. “Besides,” He went on huffily. “I don’t mind doing domestic tasks for Celty. What Celty wants, Celty gets.”

Izaya rolled his eyes at the lovesick moron. “Speaking of Celty, where is our lovely courier? Psyche was looking forward to meeting her today.” And Izaya would hate to disappoint him.

The boy, however, was still stuck on Shinra’s offering of a beverage. “Could I please have some milk, Uncle Shinra?”

Shinra raised his eyebrows, an amused grin on his face. “You still love your milk, hey Psyche? Just like your daddy.”

Psyche narrowed his eyes at that, jutting out his chin. “I am _**not**_ like him.” Psyche uttered, with as much dignified vehemence his body could muster.

Izaya jerkily shook his head at the underground doctor, a deterrent from pressing the matter.

_I don’t want Psyche-chan’s reunion with them to be marred by Shizuo._

Luckily, Shinra seemed to understand, although he sent Izaya an accusatory look. “Uh huh.” He said dully. “I’ll get you that milk, Psyche. Izaya, can I speak with you for a moment?”

_Great. Now I get to hear the riot act from Shinra._

“I’ll be back in a minute, sweetheart.” Izaya informed Psyche. “Then you can give Uncle Shinra his special surprise.”

Psyche nodded his head, and Izaya followed Shinra into the kitchen. He was expecting the man to criticise him, but was left surprised when Shinra gave a small puff of laughter, opening the fridge and removing the milk. “That kid is just like you, alright.” He chuckled, pouring the creamy liquid into a plastic cup. “I can’t see a trace of Shizuo in him physically.”

“He’s not always so cool.” Izaya was quick to defend. “He’s usually very cheerful. He still loves music, and he’s sensitive.” He crossed his arms defensively. “Psyche-chan is a very sweet boy.”

Shinra held his hands up yieldingly. “I never said he wasn’t, Izaya. I’m just saying he reminds me of you. Although…” He trailed off thoughtfully. “Does he have much of a temper?”

Guessing where Shinra was heading with this question, Izaya narrowed his eyes warningly. “No. He has tantrums like any other child, but he doesn’t become inconsolable. In fact, I happen to think he doesn’t have them as frequent as other kids his age.”

“Not surprising, since you probably spoil him.”

“I won’t be shamed by someone who doesn’t have an adorable child.” Izaya sniffed haughtily. “Psyche-chan isn’t unduly spoiled.”

“I wonder, if he were to have a tantrum of significant multitude, if-“

“ _ **No**_.” Izaya cut in curtly. “He has never displayed any signs of that abominable strength.”

Shinra sent him a sharp look. “And if he did, would it still be abominable? Would you hate him for something he isn’t in control of? Like Shizuo?”

Izaya returned his look with a scathing one. “I’m evolved from that now. I hate Shizu-chan because he was cruel to Psyche and destroyed our relationship through his temper.

“And he’s paid for that, Izaya. Paid for it more than enough. You can’t keep holding a grudge for a petty argument that happened years ago. It’ll do more harm than good. Don’t you want to be a family again?”

“Psyche is thirsty.” Izaya snapped, snatching the cup, and turning on his heel.

“You can’t avoid this forever, Izaya.” Shinra called quietly, returning the milk to the fridge. He took a moment to compose himself in the kitchen. He hadn’t planned on confronting Izaya like that, but seeing him and Psyche together as a family…

Shizuo should be part of it. Psyche needed it, and whether or not Izaya would admit it, so did he. He was an exceptional single parent, and Shinra knew that not all parents needed to have a partner to parent with (his dad being a prime example) however the pair would greatly benefit from Shizuo being in their lives.

When he returned to the lounge, Psyche was gulping down milk and the comparison to Shizuo was so strong that Shinra momentarily paused in shock. He may have looked like Izaya, but in that moment, he resembled his father, who always downed milk like it was in short supply. He even wiped his lips at the end like Shizuo.

It brought back a memory…

 

* * *

 

 _Four years ago_  

 

[Babies sure need a lot of milk.] Celty communicated, showing her PDA to the man she was sitting comfortably with. Her side rested against his, and he felt contentment and an insurmountable amount of happiness.

How many times had he imagined being in such a position with this female? How many times had he tried to initiate such affections and been turned down? How many times had she spurned him and shoved him away?

Now they were together. Warm, and very much in love. It was everything Shinra could have asked for. And more, since they’d probably be doing ‘activities’ later on that night…

His thoughts were interrupted when Celty elbowed him gruffly. [Whatever you’re thinking, stop! We can’t do that now.]

Shinra pouted. “How do you know I’m thinking anything suspicious?”

[Because you always get that goofy look on your face!]

Shinra adjusted his facial expression into something impassive, and decided to forego the brewing argument by turning his attention back to Celty’s initial statement. “Yes. Newborns need to feed every 2 to 3 hours, although they only drink a small amount.”

[Is it bad Psyche isn’t drinking breast milk?]

“It depends on who you ask.” Shinra answered. “Most recommend breast milk for feeding. Not only because of the added health benefits, such as providing antibodies and being more easily digested, but also because nursing a baby is said to help increase the natural bond between a baby and its mother. It’s an intimate experience, although some would argue that formula has just as many pros. Also, some babies fail to latch onto the mammary papilla, or struggle to draw milk. In this case, formula is a good option.”

[Wow. You really know a lot about this, Shinra!]

Shinra smiled a little sheepishly. “Yeah. Well when I realised Izaya was pregnant, I made sure to research all relevant information to make sure the baby could be raised healthily. Since Izaya didn’t develop breast milk, I wanted to know all I could about formula and feeding patterns.”

[I…can’t believe how loving he’s being.] Celty admitted, as the two watched him nursing the newborn from his bed. [It’s…a little surreal.]

Truthfully, Shinra had only half expected this to be the outcome. He’d always known his friend had a heart deep down, and he was glad Psyche had drawn it out of him. It was surreal, to see the cold-hearted informant cuddling a baby.

Psyche was small and delicate, even for a newborn. Shinra had been monitoring him very closely since his early birth, checking for infections or developing complications. So far, Psyche had been well enough, and his rigorous instructions had ensured there would be less germs floating around the apartment.

Izaya fed him from a small bottle, tilting his head slightly upwards as the baby suckled from the teat. He made small sighs of contentment here and there, and Izaya smiled at him adoringly, rubbing his back and cradling him close.

Once the bottle was mostly drained, Shinra immediately sprang into action, taking it away and cleaning it thoroughly in the sink. When he returned, Celty was at Izaya’s bedside, trying to cajole the other male into releasing the baby for a little while.

“I’m fine.” Izaya said in a croak, grip gentle but firm. “He’s going to sleep.”

Celty showed her PDA, and Izaya scoffed in response.

“I’m not neglecting my health. I’m perfectly fine.”

Clueing into the conversation, Shinra joined Celty, and angled the exhausted informant a stern look. “Celty is right, Izaya. You haven’t showered today nor have you used the bathroom. Ignoring your own hygiene is bad for the baby. You don’t want me to insert a catheter, do you? Or make me give a sponge bath?”

Izaya twisted his face in revulsion, but Shinra didn’t stop. “If you insist on being stubborn, you’re jeopardising the baby as well. Psyche needs you strong and healthy right now. Not run-down and unclean. I know mobility is an issue with that scar, but I can assist you to the bathroom, and you can shower sitting on a chair. Now, what’s it going to be?” Shinra crossed his arms, hoping he sounded like an authoritative doctor and not an inexperienced student. He didn’t often become pushy with his patients. Usually they had more respect for him than that, and didn’t make him play the bossy health professional card.

Izaya sighed, running a hand through his clumpy, unwashed hair. “You’re right.”

Shinra basked at this. _He was right!_ Izaya didn’t often admit his shortcomings. When he did, it was something momentous. “Of course I am.” He managed to say without any hint of elation or smugness. Absolutely none.

With the way Celty had shrugged her shoulders in exasperation, perhaps he had failed.

Izaya, though, was too tired to make an issue of Shinra’s victory. Silently, (because asking for help was still a new concept to Izaya) he held out Psyche in the Dullahan’s direction, and Celty accepted him with the utmost tenderness.

Seeing her like that, made a warm feeling blossom in Shinra’s heart. Celty had always been intrigued by babies. Perhaps, he’d thought, it was part of being a mythical fairy. Either way, she’d been incredibly excited for Izaya to give birth, and in turn horribly nervous to hold him. Celty didn’t need to say _why_ she was nervous. Shinra already knew. He _**always**_ knew. Because he loved her, and she loved him, and he could sense her thoughts.

Celty, despite her undisputed toughness, could be rather sensitive about her nature. Whilst she used her powers to her gain, she also felt insecure when called a monster. Which happened less often these days now that she was more a celebrity than a mystery.

Predictably, the newborn hadn’t shrieked upon his first contact with her. And even when his eyes had finally opened, he wasn’t afraid of the lack of head.

And why would he be? He was being raised with Celty like lack of appendages was normal.

To Psyche, there was nothing strange or otherworldly about Celty. She was just another warm body, another person to whine at when he was separated from his mother.

For this, Shinra was greatly appreciative. Celty was more fully integrated into society, and had the precious chance to form a bond with a baby, even if she wasn’t the parent.

“Come on, Izaya.” Shinra encouraged, offering a hand in assistance. “Wow. You really do need a shower. You have dried milk down your front.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Thank you, Uncle Shinra.” Psyche chimed upon finishing the milk.

“You’re most certainly welcome.” Shinra replied brightly, taking the empty cup.

“Good manners, Psyche-chan.” Izaya immediately praised, and laughed when he saw the pale white mustache decorating Psyche’s upper lip. “Your mouth, Psyche-chan.”

Psyche blinked, and traced a thumb over his mouth. “Do I have a milk mustache?” Before hearing an answer, he wiped the back of his left hand over his mouth, wiping away the traces. “Gone?”

“All gone.” Izaya affirmed. He joined Psyche on the lounge, and wrapped an arm around the excited boy. “You okay?” He asked softly, when Shinra went into the kitchen again.

Psyche nodded smilingly. “Yep! I’m really, really happy!”

It broke Izaya’s heart. How long had Psyche wanted this? Had he been depriving his child? He’d always thought he could give Psyche everything he needed, but…

“I love you Mom.”

Izaya was wrenched from his melancholic thoughts, and his heart melted. “I love you too, darling.”

“When do you think Aunt Celty will be here?”

“Soon enough. You just need to be patient.”

No longer had he said these words, when he heard the tell-tale sound of a braying motorcycle. Psyche immediately recognised it, having been told in stories of Celty’s steed. “Mom! I think she’s here!”

Psyche seemed so excited, it only served to make Izaya feel an emotion he always tried to avoid.

Regret.

Had he made the wrong choice all those years ago? Had it truly been the right choice to move Psyche away from the only family he had? Sure, he’d had Shiki and Akabayashi, but compared to Celty and Shinra, those men seemed less important. And Namie…

Before he could continue down the slippery slope of his thoughts, the apartment door was opened, and Psyche bolted down the hallway before Izaya could caution him about running inside. Izaya followed at a more subdued pace, wondering how the Dullahan would react to _him_ personally. Surely she wouldn’t hit him around Psyche, would she?

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. I apologize for the cliffhanger, but I've had a little bit of writers block lately and I felt forcing myself to continue writing would ruin the chapter. 
> 
> As usual, thanks to everyone who reviewed and left Kudos, they really encourage me and I appreciate all of your feedback. It's interesting to see people's reactions to what I write. 
> 
> (Please) Review if you would like, but no pressure. 
> 
> Have a nice night/day!


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya finds an unlikely ally in Celty, and the second reunion ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to any readers! This is a late update, because I usually update on weekends, so I'm sorry about that. I'm having some motivation problems but I managed to write this. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and left Kudos on the last chapter! It really inspired me to keep going (even though I took longer) and your feedback helps my writing. Please enjoy.

 

* * *

 

 

Seeing the Dullahan for the first time in four years caused conflicted feelings to rise. Was Celty still looking for her head? The same head Namie was keeping? Did she suspect Izaya was keeping it from her? Would that affect her relationship with Psyche?

He need not have worried, as when he saw the headless fairy, she was holding Psyche up, sheer happiness in her posture. It was clear the young boy had launched himself at her. The woman’s PDA had clattered to the floor, and Izaya picked it up immediately. “Careful, Psyche-chan.” He said, a little disapprovingly. “It isn’t polite to jump on people.”

_Even if it is adorable._

“Sorry, Mom!” Psyche apologised, with not a hint of sincerity in his voice. “Look, its Aunt Celty!”

“I have working vision.” Izaya said, a little wryly. “Hop down and come into the lounge. Allow Aunt Celty to relax for a moment.”

Psyche gave a whine, and for a moment Izaya feared a tantrum, but then he allowed himself to be set down without any clinging, beaming upwards at Celty like she was the most magnificent thing he had ever beheld in his short life. The resemblance to Shinra (minus the creepy obsessive attraction) was uncanny. It seemed Psyche had inherited something from his uncle. An appreciation for the strange and otherworldly.

With a tight smile, Izaya handed Celty the PDA, and she nodded in acknowledgement. There was a stiff atmosphere between them, stifling and strong. He felt on edge, grappling for words in a rare display of hesitance. He knew what the female thought of him, knew she was Shizuo’s best friend, and a major support pillar in the blond man’s life. Likely she’d thought about slugging him countless times before his return to Tokyo, and he could vividly imagine her swinging a fist.

Of _course_ he’d be able to dodge, but Psyche would be considerably traumatised seeing his beloved Aunt Celty trying to attack his ‘mother’. It would jeopardise their relationship, and seeing as Izaya was confined to Tokyo for at least six months, it would be an entirely unwelcome development. It wasn’t as if he were _relying_ on them (he’d done fine raising Psyche by himself, thank you very much) but rather he wanted Psyche to experience having an uncle and aunt. Like a more traditional family.

Well, as traditional as a mythical fairy and a weird underground doctor could be. Either way, he wanted to try it. See how Psyche reacted to a different dynamic.

Celty’s neck looked downwards, and she typed expertly on the touch surface, before displaying the screen to the two males. [Hi Psyche. It’s good to see you. Do you remember me?] Sensing that he probably couldn’t (The Dullahan had a basic understanding of the human memory) she went on [I’m Celty Sturluson. I’ve known your mother a long time.]

_That sounds ominous._

“Uh huh!” Psyche chirped knowingly. “Your mommy’s friend and my aunt!”

Judging by her posture, Celty seemed taken aback by the word ‘friend’, but didn’t show it overtly. She had never really been friends with Izaya, that role was reserved for Shizuo. And really, who could blame her? After all of the trouble Izaya had caused her over the years. Not to mention being a continuous thorn in the side of Shinra as well. He wasn’t even going to _touch_ on Shizuo…

_Psyche can’t suffer for my past actions._

It was a thought that visited Izaya often. He promised himself he wouldn’t let it happen. But in Tokyo, could he really stop it? He’d always been manipulative and controlling, but pulling the strings of an entire city wasn’t that easy when you had a rambunctious four year old to care for. He couldn’t sit hours staring at a computer monitor, nor could he prance around Ikebukuro causing mischief. He had to be _responsible._

_But not boring. **Never** boring._

[Yes.] Celty agreed after a moments pause. [Shinra and I have missed you, Psyche-chan.]

_Tactful subject change, well done, my intelligent courier._

“I…” Psyche started, thin eyebrows furrowing thoughtfully.

Celty cocked her helmet, but waited for the boy to compose his words patiently.

“I want, I wanted, see you.” Psyche said with a little difficulty, clearly trying to articulate himself as accurately as he could. Although Izaya considered him an exceptionally intelligent boy, he sometimes struggled with wording, like all children were prone to do. “But, I can’t remember…”

[You can’t remember what to say?] Celty asked, trying to assist. When Psyche didn’t reply, she looked to Izaya, and saw a near identical look on his face. The informant’s eyebrows were in the same position, and his eyes narrowed.

He was interpreting his son.

_Oh. I see._

Izaya realised after a moment.

_He can’t remember Celty and Shinra, since he was only an infant when he saw them last. He’s trying to distinguish how you can ‘miss’ someone you’ve never met. My clever, **overthinking** son._

“This is like meeting Aunt Celty for the first time, right Psyche-chan?” Izaya quipped, before his son became frustrated with his fleeting comprehension. It was clear Psyche was overwhelmed with this alien situation, and it was taking its toll. “Since you can’t remember her from when you were a little baby.”

Instantly, Psyche’s eyes cleared and his beam returned. “Yeah! But I still know lots about you, Auntie! Mommy tells me stories!”

[Your mother is good with stories.] Celty communicated, and Izaya instantly grasped Psyche’s shoulder, weary of what else she might type. Although it made him proud that Psyche was such an advanced reader, it could certainly be a hindrance at times like this. Such simplified sentences were easily understood by Psyche.

However, his son was a sweet, innocent soul. “I know! I love when Mom reads to me! Especially _The Little Prince_. It’s about a pilot and a little boy, and a rose-“

Celty knelt downwards, and petted Psyche on the head. [I’m sure it’s wonderful.]

Izaya relaxed minimally, but didn’t release his grip on Psyche. “Let’s go into the lounge.” He repeated once more. “Allow Aunt Celty to relax. I’m sure she’s had a busy day.” Without waiting for Psyche to reply, he steered his son away, back to the relative safety of the lounge.

Shinra had returned from the kitchen, and he perked up like a puppy when he saw the Dullahan in tow. “Welcome home, my beautiful Celty! How was work?”

Celty seemed embarrassed by the romantic greeting, but tapped out a quick message, flashing it to Shinra before sitting down on the loveseat.

Of course, Shinra joined, snuggling close and being rewarded with an elbow in the gut for his troubles. He hunched over with a yelp. “Ouch, Celty.” He winced, rubbing the sensitive spot. “That really hurt.”

“Are you okay, Uncle Shinra?” Psyche inquired worriedly. It was in vast contrast to Izaya, who had smirked with amusement and barely held back a snicker at the familiar actions.

“I’m fine.” Shinra assured, sitting back upwards with a slightly pained smile. “Celty does that all of the time. It is how she shows me her love.”

“I thought hitting people was wrong.” There was no judgement in Psyche’s tone, only confusion. “Mommy told me that you shouldn’t hurt others because it’s mean.”

Shinra and Celty looked to Izaya bemusedly, and Izaya huffed, rolling his eyes.

_Did they seriously think I’d raise Psyche to be a lonely skeptic like me? It is better he stay out of fights completely._

“And I’m right,” Izaya said. “But you can make an exception for your aunt and uncle. They’re different. Celty doesn’t hit to be mean. It’s kind of like they’re…playing.”

“What kind of playing is that, Mama?”

Izaya smirked again, crimson eyes twinkling teasingly as he sent Shinra a wink. “A type of playing you’re still too young to understand, Psyche-chan.”

_Who am I to judge violent foreplay?_

“Aw! No fair! I’m getting big now, Mom!”

Izaya’s eyes softened as he regarded his pouting son. Indeed, Psyche was growing. Too fast, for Izaya’s liking. Soon he’d have to organise his schooling…

_Don’t think about it._

Izaya didn’t want his baby to grow up.

“You certainly have grown since I last saw you.” Shinra chimed pleasantly. “You were so tiny, back then. But you still look just like your mom.”

[He doesn’t look a thing like Shizuo.] It was clear Celty was taking the time to properly observe Psyche now he wasn’t jumping on her.

“No.” Shinra agreed.

Psyche seemed relieved at this, and Izaya felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.

_Is he scared of being compared to Shizuo?_

That wasn’t an emotion he wanted to fester. The last thing he wanted was Psyche being fearful about similarities he may or may not share with his other parent.

“And it wouldn’t matter if he did.” Izaya blurted, eyes fixated on Psyche. He felt a surge of desperation within him. “I love Psyche-chan no matter what.”

Silence.

Then Psyche perked up, easily cheered, as always. He recovered from negative emotions fast, especially around his doting mother. “I love you too, Mommy!” He wrapped his arms around Izaya’s waist, and Izaya lifted him into the air, pecking his nose and making the child giggle. It was a sickly sweet display, but Izaya had stopped caring about looking sappy. This was a side of him reserved only for Psyche, and as his offspring, the child was entitled to it wholeheartedly. Besides, there was no need to feel self-conscious. Shinra and Celty had seen him do this before, only it had been when the boy was much younger. “Now,” Izaya lowered his voice, whispering into Psyche’s ear. “Why don’t you give Uncle Shinra and Aunt Celty the presents we got them in Ireland?”

Psyche squirmed to be let down, and Izaya struggled for a moment. As much as he hated to admit it, Psyche really was growing up. It wasn’t as easy to hold him anymore.

_At least he’s small for his age, like I was._

Once firmly on the ground, Psyche grabbed the discarded presents, holding them behind his back secretively. “Guess what!” He sing-songed cutely.

Shinra and Celty played oblivious, and Shinra made a show of scratching his head in befuddlement. “What?” The underground doctor asked.

Psyche presented the two presents with a flourish. “TA-DA!”

Shinra gasped. “Are these for us!?” He said, dramatically awestruck.

“Yep!” Psyche confirmed exuberantly. He handed one present to Shinra, but when Celty tentatively reached out for the other, he stepped back and shook his head. “Nope!” He said adamantly. “I wanna see your face when you open it!”

Shinra paused in his enthusiastic paper shredding, and looked to Izaya with shock.

The Dullahan had frozen up in abject horror, and Shinra wrapped an arm around her nervously quivering shoulders.

Izaya opened his mouth to explain, but Psyche went on. “Please, Aunt Celty? I know Uncle Shinra can see what you think, I wanna try, as well! Plus, I know you’re really pretty without your helmet on. Mommy told me.”

Celty’s hand quivered over her PDA, and Shinra grasped it gently. “He’s right.” Shinra assured softly. “You are really pretty. Show him. Psyche-chan knows.”

Izaya watched as her hand stilled with Shinra’s support. It brought forth a memory…

 

* * *

 

 _Four Years Ago_  

 

A pale hand trembled fretfully, the owner fearful.

“It’s going to be fine, louse. Relax.”

Izaya made a doubtful sound in his throat, quivering increasing.

A sigh. Tired. “Izaya, I mean it. Come sit down.”

He shook his head.

“You’re no use to anyone like this.”

Izaya scoffed. “I’m no use in general!”

“Oi.” Shizuo looked over at the pacing male, frowning. “Don’t get all self-loathing on me. It’s disturbing.”

“Sorry if I’m inconveniencing you with my worry for our son,” Izaya snapped, snarky. “Unlike you, I happen to be a proper parent who cares about my baby’s suffering.”

Shizuo scowled. “Shut the hell up! I care for Psyche just as much as you! I’m just not freaking out like some prissy little girl!”

“Wow. What a schoolyard taunt from a small-brained protozoan.”

He ground his teeth in irritation. “Izaya-“

“I’m surprised your molars aren’t dust by now with how much you grind your teeth. Ugh. It’s so disgusting. I can’t believe I procreated with you.”

“You certainly weren’t complaining at the time! The way I recall it, you were moaning like a cock-hungry-“

“Cock-hungry? Please. You practically raped me, you beast.”

“That isn’t funny.”

“Oooh, did I hurt Shizu-chan’s feelings?”

“I swear to fucking God-“

“Go fuck God, then. Keep your monster cooties away from me.”

“I know what you’re doing.” Shizuo’s voice was suddenly soft. Controlled. It irked Izaya that at times like these (relating to their son) Shizuo was the calmer parent. “You’re trying to push me away. You do this whenever you get upset.”

“Well-deduced, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, with scathing sarcasm. “I am upset. Our son could be dying in there and Shinra is making us stay out in the hallway!”

Shizuo barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “Shinra is making us stay outside because you kept picking an argument with me and Psyche can sense stress. You need to relax, it’s probably just the flu.”

“ _Just_ the flu?” Izaya repeated, with disbelief. “Do you know how severe the flu can be to a baby’s immune system? Psyche isn’t old enough to have any vaccinations, he could get seriously ill, even _die_.”

Truthfully, the words did trouble Shizuo (how could they not? He was Psyche’s father, after all) but he opted to be reasonable. There was no use him freaking out as well. At times like these, it was his turn to be the composed one in their relationship.

He couldn’t screw it up. Izaya was always so _calm_ around Psyche, never losing his temper, always patient. He was the epitome of a perfect mother. And Shizuo wanted to be the perfect father for his son. So, he replied with as much patience that was humanly possible (regarding the louse that is) “I know about the flu, Izaya. I read up on it when I first moved in.”

“That book was published years ago! In recently released medical studies-“

This time, Shizuo couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Luckily, Izaya didn’t notice, too caught up in his scholarly persona. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so stressed if you stopped using your phone to look up half-assed stories on Google.”

“Half-assed? These articles come from reputable sources!”

Shizuo could see they weren’t getting anywhere by talking. They seldom did. So, as Izaya rambled on about medical journals and peer reviewing, he slowly rose to his feet. He walked to the raven slowly, not wanting to attract attention and be rebuked. He was sure Shinra wouldn’t appreciate a physical fight, especially since they’d come to his apartment so early in the morning.

Psyche’s fever, however, could not wait. Izaya had been weary of febrile convulsions, although Shizuo himself thought the baby a little hardier. He had to have inherited something from his father, right?

Either way, Shinra was looking Psyche over and Izaya’s hands were trembling.

And Shizuo needed to steady them. One way or another.

He didn’t bother grasping Izaya lightly or kissing him delicately. Such actions were too tame to fully distract the other male. Instead, he grabbed his waist, yanking him around and smashing their lips together with little mercy.

Izaya gave a startled shout, but didn’t pull away when Shizuo pried his mouth open with his teeth. The former bartender tasted like nicotine and mint, an intoxicating combination that had him moaning and pressing closer.

Shizuo’s tongue inched inside, mapping the familiar territory with delicious familiarity. He knew just where to linger, and his strong hands had captured Izaya’s own trembling ones, holding them between the two warm bodies firmly.

The kiss lasted a long time, and although kisses usually led to raunchy sex (when Psyche allowed) it tapered off almost sweetly, Izaya steadily calming down now that Shizuo was forcing him to concentrate on something else. Namely, attraction and faint arousal.

And his hands had stopped trembling.

They were warm.

Psyche would be okay. He just had to apologise for almost stabbing Shinra. A mother wouldn’t willingly be separated from their baby, after all.

…And maybe he shouldn’t have hacked Shizuo’s clothes (hastily put together) to ribbons when the man hauled the informant outside of the medical room.

 

* * *

 

 

Tensely, Celty slowly removed the helmet, revealing the smoke beneath. It billowed about her in nervous waves, and Shinra held her hand supportively.

She need not have worried, as Psyche broke into a large grin, clapping his hands in delight. “That’s so cool!” He cheered, eyes wide with amazement. “Even cooler than I thought it would be!”

Celty’s shoulders slumped in relief, and she tapped hesitantly on her PDA. [You don’t think I’m some kind of monster?]

_She must have been worrying about this. How typical of her._

“Nope!” Psyche denied with blatant honesty. “You’re a pretty fairy, Aunt Celty! Like in the story books Mom read me when we went to Ireland!”

[You went to Ireland!?] Celty questioned eagerly. [I mean, I knew you were travelling, but-]

“Your homeland is beautiful.” Izaya interjected, sensing a meltdown. “Psyche and I enjoyed it immensely. He wanted to know all about fairies.” He smirked here. “And not just about the stereotypical sparkly ones.” He did like those as well, of course. Psyche liked cutesy, kiddie stories like any regular child. He just liked the darker ones as well. Something he likely inherited from his mother. “He was fascinated by Dullahan’s. I told him he could ask you questions about your former life, if you can remember.”

[Isn’t the dousing with blood part a little inappropriate?] Celty asked, angling the phone away from Psyche so he couldn’t try and read. [You don’t want to frighten him.]

“Psyche is sturdier than that. Just don’t watch any of your horror movies around him, okay?”

_Not that I’d ever let that happen under my watch._

Izaya could keenly remember Psyche’s nightmares from the movie debacle with Akabayashi. It had wreaked havoc on both of their sleeping schedules.

“Wow. Look at you being responsible.” Shinra quipped amusedly.

“Of course.” Izaya said, rolling his eyes.

_Did everyone really assume I was a bad parent? I don’t have Shizuo, but I’ve done the best I can. And I think Psyche-chan is a precious little boy…_

“Mommy doesn’t let me watch scary movies.” Psyche said, with a hint of petulance. “Gramps and I watched an American one once, and Mommy got angry.”

“And what happened after you watched that movie, Psyche?”

Psyche was sheepish here, offering a slightly embarrassed smile. “I got nightmares.”

Izaya nodded stiffly. “Yes you did. Which is why you listen to Mommy. Mommy only has your best interests at heart.”

Psyche accepted this wholeheartedly. “Okay, love you.”

Shinra and Celty watched this exchange with interest, and exchanged looks at the conclusion. Although Izaya had been reinforcing a rule, Psyche hadn’t bristled like a more disobedient child. He’d listened, with the utmost respect and love. With Izaya as a mother, they had expected the boy to pitch an unruly fit.

“Love you too, baby. Why don’t you give Aunt Celty her present now?”

Psyche immediately handed Celty the present, and watched with anticipation as she methodically shredded the paper.

Shinra was less patient, ripping it free without any thought for the pretty wrapping. He immediately swooned over the gift, uttering gracious thanks and hugging Psyche tightly. “Thank you so much, Psyche-chan. I love it.”

Celty was more reserved in her thanks, giving Psyche a soft embrace after she had read over the track listing. [Now I can listen to this when I feel homesick. It’s thoughtful of you.]

“We almost got you an Irish maid outfit,” Izaya teased. “For Shinra’s sake.”

“But I thought Aunt Celty was a deliverywoman? Does she have another job, Mama?”

Psyche’s innocent question had all of the adults laughing, although Celty still jabbed Shinra in the stomach for good measure when his eyes went a little starry. No doubt he was fantasising about the woman.

“No, Psyche-chan. Uncle Shinra and Aunt Celty just like playing dress-up sometimes.” Izaya explained, smirking wider when he could feel perturbed vibes coming from Celty. He just couldn’t help teasing her. It was too fun.

“Like how I like dressing up in your coats?”

Izaya’s heart practically melted. Funny to think he’d been accused of not having one so long ago. Psyche looked _adorable_ dressed up in his mother’s clothing. “Kind of like that, yes.”

“Aunt Celty,” Psyche turned to the woman with wide, pleading eyes. “Can I play dress up with you sometime? Mommy bought me some dress-ups for Halloween, and I like playing in them…”

[Of course, Psyche-chan.] Celty agreed. [I’d love to play dress-up with you.]

Psyche cheered once more, practically squirming in pleasure at all of the excitement he was experiencing. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The hyperactive display led Shinra to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “How much sugar is in this kid’s diet?” He questioned dully.

“Why?” Izaya asked, a little indignant. Although he had a tendency to spoil Psyche, the boy ate a healthy, balanced diet.

Sure, he was prone to giving him treats and little bribes, but what parent wasn’t? Children could be incredibly fussy with their diet, sometimes. Those who scorned parents for allowing children ice cream after dinner had clearly never sat across from a stubborn child, practically screaming with frustration as their kid refused to take a single bite of broccoli.

Broccoli.

One of Izaya’s enemies, along with half of Tokyo, and Shizuo Heiwajima. Psyche despised the green vegetable, and had gone to great lengths in the past to avoid eating it. Luckily, he didn’t have a particularly strong aversion to any other food.

“He’s got a lot of energy.” Shinra said, as Psyche jumped onto Celty’s lap and began playing with her shadows. “Did he have a candy cocktail for breakfast?”

Izaya scoffed. “And here I thought you were a man of science, Shinra. Firstly, children tend to have a lot of energy. Secondly, Psyche is _my_ child. I’ve always had a lot of energy.”

“I do remember.” Shinra conceded thoughtfully. “You have an unusual amount of energy, and a tendency to keep pushing yourself when you need rest.”

“Spare me the lecture,” Izaya hissed softly, as Psyche looked to the pair with interest. “I’m a single parent, with a job and a child. I don’t have the time to take long, uninterrupted naps and have a steady sleeping schedule.”

“The changing time zones can’t help much either-“ Shinra stopped when he noticed Psyche watching them, and cleared his throat. “Of course, you are right. I don’t specialize in children, nor am I a paediatrician. You know best.”

Celty, who had been listening whilst entertaining Psyche with her shadows (Psyche seemed endeared by them, giggling and squealing as they passed through his spread fingers) gently placed Psyche down and took up her discarded PDA. [Shinra is just doing his job! No one has been around to know how you parent, so you can’t blame him-]

Izaya felt a flash of sharp anger, and Psyche immediately tensed, sensing his mother’s distress. Like his mother, he was sensitive to the emotions of those around them. Perhaps even more so than Izaya.

_I can’t snap here. Not now. If I do that it will invalidate all of my efforts for Psyche to have a friendly relationship with Shinra and Celty. He’s too protective of me._

But God, it was _**hard.**_

It was unspeakably **_hard_ ** to hear his parenting methods constantly criticized. He was always told he wasn’t doing enough, that he was inadequate, that Psyche needed something else…

 _Someone_ else.

He wasn’t enough.

But he did everything he could.

“You must be getting hungry, Psyche-chan,” Izaya said robotically. “I’ll go to the kitchen and unpack your lunch.” Ever diligent, he’d prepared Psyche’s lunch that morning, and had placed it in the boy’s backpack ready for their visit.

“Okay, Mama. I’ll help!” Psyche said, scurrying to his feet.

Izaya gave a small smile, and leaned down. “It’s fine, angel. Mommy can do it. You should keep Aunt Celty company and tell her more about her native Ireland.”

Psyche seemed reluctant, and gazed at his mother searchingly.

“Celty would like that.” Shinra encouraged. “I’ll help your mother, Psyche.”

_Oh great._

Izaya thought sarcastically.

_Maybe I should just have Psyche come._

No. He couldn’t. The boy would only realise something was off.

Giving a half-convincing smile, he followed Shinra into the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

 

Celty watched the child before her, shoulders shifted as she cocked her absent head. He looked just like Izaya. Not a hint of Shizuo in him physically. His behaviour hadn’t changed that much from when he was a baby. He was still a cheerful little boy, entirely devoted and attached to his mother. On the surface, Psyche seemed perfectly fine.

_But how could he be?_

Celty thought.

_Izaya is an **awful** person. He practically kidnapped his own child. How has Psyche adjusted to having such a man as his sole parent?_

She’d spoken with Shizuo that morning. It was the reason she’d been late. The man had been eager to vent about his visit, and had urged her to tell him exactly how the day’s planned meeting had progressed once it was completed. He wanted to know how Psyche was around other people. If he copied his mother’s behaviour. Celty had promised, of course. It was the least she could do for her best friend.

But Psyche…

To be honest, she hadn’t expected the boy to be this sweet. She’d thought Izaya would corrupt him, turn him into something cruel and twisted. She was surprised he’d even returned to Ikebukuro.

_He seems perfectly fine. And really…happy._

The boy was currently babbling contently about Dublin, the capital of Ireland. She couldn’t remember much of the place, especially now that it was so modernized. Nevertheless, it was enjoyable. Pleasant.

Psyche was a pleasant boy.

“And Gramps went to this pub and came back really late! Grandpa was so mad…”

_Travelling with the Awakusu Executives. This could have gone seriously wrong. It’s a miracle Psyche is still **alive.**_

“But I think I liked Killarney the best! It was so pretty!”

[It sure is.] Celty replied. [So…did you have fun?]

“Yep! I always have fun with Mommy!”

_That’s what concerns me. What is his definition of ‘fun’?_

Shizuo had assured her that Izaya had been a good mother to Psyche, but Celty had never trusted Izaya completely. She’d been close to it once, but then the informant had packed up and left, without a single word to anyone.

It was hard to know if Izaya had reverted back to his former ways.

[What kind of ‘fun’ does this entail?]

Psyche blinked at the phone, squinting at the final word.

Immediately, Celty re-phrased. It was easy to forget Psyche’s age when he appeared so advanced. No matter how clever he was, he still struggled to read certain words. [What do you and your mom do for fun?]

Comprehension dawned on Psyche’s face, and he smiled happily. “Lots of things! We play with my toys, and hide-and-seek, he colours and paints with me, and he helps me with my instruments! I like going places with him, too…”

_That sounds completely normal._

Celty realised. Still…

[And you like just having him around?]

Psyche giggled, and it was a sweet sound. It lacked the hysteria of Izaya’s own laughter. “Don’t be silly, Aunt Celty! I have Gramps and Grandpa too, and Namie-chan!”

_Namie- **chan?**_

Celty was in disbelief.

_Is he really so familiar with that awful woman?_

The Dullahan was sure the slippery woman still had her head stashed somewhere. Not that it mattered so much anymore. She was…happy. She had made new memories.

But eventually, she would need it back. Shinra aged like a regular human, and she refused to live without him.

Shaking her head at the macabre direction her thoughts had headed, Celty re-focused her attention on Psyche.

[Do you ever…miss anyone?]

Psyche cocked his head in thought. “I guess so. I miss you and Uncle Shinra, even though I can’t remember you from when I was a baby.”

[Is there anyone else you miss?]

And then Psyche’s eyes narrowed into a glare, and the resemblance to his mother was uncanny. It was clear he knew what Celty was hinting at.

_So intuitive. Just like Izaya._

_**“Nope.”** _ Psyche said, with irritated dismissiveness. “I have Mommy. He’s all I need.”

Celty couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated. Shizuo was her best friend, and she felt injustice on his behalf. [Psyche, I don’t know what your mom has told you about your father, but-]

“Mommy _never_ talks about **_him._** ” Psyche said vehemently. “Ever. Only when we had to come here.”

Celty was confused. [Then how-]

Psyche went on without glancing at her PDA. “Namie-chan and Gramps told me about _**him**_. That _**he’s**_ mean and hurts people. And **_he_** broke my mommy’s heart! I hate **_him_**! And I hate that I have to be nice to _**him!”**_

_I was wrong this whole time. Izaya isn’t solely responsible for Psyche’s opinion of Shizuo. If anything, he’s the least responsible._

That didn’t change the fact that Celty thought he’d made the wrong decision in leaving, but it did make her feel guilty for her rude treatment of the informant earlier. Wrong decision or not, Izaya had been trying his best to give Psyche a good childhood, dysfunctional or otherwise.

_Great. Now I’ve distressed poor Psyche._

Izaya came into the room upon hearing Psyche’s raised voice, carrying a small plate of neatly cut sandwiches, and a small container of strawberries.

_Strawberries. He likes strawberries just like Shizuo._

Perhaps there was more Shizuo in Psyche then she thought. His small rant was very reminiscent of his father.

“What’s going on?” Izaya demanded sharply, protective instincts roaring. “Psyche-chan, are you okay?”

Before Psyche could answer (and likely incite further ire in his mother) Celty abruptly stood up. [Can I speak with you for a moment? Alone?]

Shinra had followed after Izaya, and without even glancing at the screen of his lover’s PDA, he swiped the plate and container away, plopping down on the lounge with them in hand. “So Psyche, you really like strawberries, huh?” He asked, distracting the boy.

It was times like these that Celty realised she needed to marry that man.

“Fine.” Izaya said shortly, turning on his heel and striding back into the kitchen. Then, he turned around once more. “So? What do you-“

His sentence was cut off, as Celty abruptly grasped his skinny shoulders. Guessing her intentions, he felt for the switchblade in his pocket, preparing to use it. However, he was left gaping rather inelegantly when the Dullahan enveloped him in a firm embrace. It was the first time a female had hugged him in years (asides from random tourists. Namie wasn’t the affectionate type, after all) and the feeling of breasts pressing into his chest was rather bizarre. He patted her back awkwardly, at a complete loss as to her motives.

When she pulled back, she typed on her PDA hurriedly. [I’m sorry for undermining your parenting methods. It’s clear you’ve been trying your best.]

Izaya relaxed somewhat. “Thank you.”

[I still don’t approve of what you did, but I know now it wasn’t done just to spite Shizuo. You were just doing what you thought was best for Psyche.]

Izaya’s expression practically oozed _finally,_ but she ignored it. [I also want to be honest, Izaya. We’ve never been the best of friends, but when Psyche was born, all of us became closer. Shinra’s always been more accepting of your behaviour, but when you left, Shizuo wasn’t the only one who felt betrayed. I really love Psyche, and-]

Izaya reached out, and grabbed her hand. “I understand.” He said simply. “And I’m sorry you felt that way.”

_Is Izaya Orihara really apologising for something?_

“What happened wasn’t your fault. I apologise that you had to suffer for it. If it means anything, I missed you and Shinra as well.”

The two regarded one another with mutual understanding for a moment, before Izaya regained his usual attitude. “Well, I better go check on Psyche-chan. Make sure Shinra isn’t turning him perverse.”

Celty watched as he left, a new resolution swirling through her body.

_I’m not going to give up on reuniting Shizuo and Izaya, but I’m going to try and do it the **right** way. Izaya isn’t inadequate, and I don’t think he should be treated that way._

With resolve, she left to continue the visit. She had missed Psyche greatly, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. There's the end of Psyche and Izaya's reunion with Shinra and Celty. Honestly I intended for this to go completely different, but I realized that Izaya needed some unbiased support and decided that Celty would be good for that role (even though she's Shizuo's best friend) due to her reasonable personality and peacekeeping skills. 
> 
> The next chapter will have Shizuo, a trip outside, and a little romance ;)
> 
> (Please) Review if you would like. No pressure though. 
> 
> PS: To anyone unfamiliar with febrile convulsions, they are a fit or seizure caused by high temperatures (fevers) in infants and young children. 
> 
> PPS: I listened to Trembling Hands by The Temper Trap when I wrote this. I think I'll make a playlist for myself to listen to. 
> 
> Seeya!


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo heeds some advice from Celty, and Izaya muses on some similarities between his son and Shizuo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo it's been a while. This chapter is short compared to some of the others, and honestly I re-wrote it because it seemed very forced the first few times. Truthfully I've kind of drifted out of this fandom (which happens to everyone, I'm sure) but I still want to keep writing so here it is! As usual, thanks to everyone who has reviewed and left Kudos. If it weren't for you guys, I probably wouldn't have bothered continuing to write. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

“So he was a good boy?” It’s a familial question, uttered by a concerned father.

[Yes, Shizuo.] Is the answer, given by a patient Dullahan. She’s seated on her steed, relaying the day’s events to an eager Shizuo. [Psyche is a good kid.]

Shizuo’s broad shoulders slumped in relief at her reply, but his face was still worried. “And the flea?”

Celty sighed. [Izaya was…Izaya. But perfectly fine. He’s a really good parent.]

Shizuo exhaled a plume of cigarette smoke, apparently satisfied. “Yeah. But it would be better if I were there. For Psyche _and_ him. Have you seen how skinny the louse is? And he looks like he hasn’t slept properly in months…”

[Don’t be arrogant.] Celty communicated, laying a hand on his shoulder to show she wasn’t annoyed. Rather chiding. [Izaya has done a good job so far. That said, I think you can be a positive inclusion in their lives. You just have to be patient.]

It was a new attitude, and Shizuo raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t irritated, rather…bemused. “I thought I was your friend, Celty?”

[You are.] Celty quickly affirmed. [But I have to be honest if I want to help.]

Shizuo shrugged casually. “Hey, it’s all good. I don’t want you to be some creepy minion, like the flea used to collect…”

[You shouldn’t call him that anymore.] She typed quickly. [Even around me. You might accidentally slip up around Psyche.]

Shizuo grimaced at this. He could imagine the kid’s reaction already. He may have inherited a lot from Izaya, but the temper he had barely glimpsed reminded Shizuo of himself. He couldn’t help but wonder, what would happen if Psyche got _truly_ angry…

Either way, it was something he didn’t want to experience anytime soon.

“I hear you.” Shizuo acknowledged. “I’ll try to be more _patient_.”

[And don’t be too forceful.] Celty went on instantly. Clearly, she’d been pondering how best to approach this conversation. [Izaya will feel like that’s a challenge to his own parenting. In the long-term, it will only end up with him pushing you away more.]

Shizuo sighed. It made sense. It was logical. Yet…

He was impatient. He’d always been impatient. He just wanted things to return to the way they were, and seeing Psyche’s drastic growth with his own eyes only ceased to remind him how much he had _missed._

_I don’t want to miss anymore. I **can’t.**_

He knew all too well how quick kids grew up. He wanted to experience Psyche loving him again. The kind of love only young children were capable of. The love that made their parents the center of their little universes.

He’d thought it would be _Izaya_ he had to win over. At this rate, Psyche was the one he had to try and impress…

[Don’t try too hard.] Celty could sense he was feeling disheartened. [Be yourself. That’s the Shizuo Izaya fell in love with, and it’s the self you should want Psyche to see. Just…don’t overdo it, okay?]

_How can I be myself and **not** overdo it?_

Despite Celty’s somewhat conflicting advice, Shizuo nodded his head in gratitude. He trusted the Dullahan completely.

“Be myself, but not myself,” He murmured dryly. “Okay, I’ve got it.”

Celty elbowed him in the side playfully, and he waited as she composed another message. [You’ll be fine, Shizuo. I’m sorry if I’ve bombarded you with advice.]

“Don’t be.” Shizuo waved away her worries unconcernedly. “Who else could I ask? Shinra?”

The Dullahan’s shoulders shook with laughter. [I see your point. Shinra isn’t exactly helpful when it comes to matters like this.]

“It makes me wonder what he’s been telling the fle-, I mean _Izaya_.” Shizuo corrected himself hastily.

[You don’t need to worry about that.] Celty assured. [He’s actually been really supportive of you. He just…doesn’t quite understand regular human relationships.]

It was hard for Shizuo to believe Shinra considered he and Izaya regular humans. No one else did. Perhaps it was because he was constantly surrounded by the supernatural…

[Izaya _is_ telling the truth though.]

Shizuo raised his eyebrows in confusion.

[He hasn’t been badmouthing you.] Celty elaborated. [And if he has been, I don’t think he’s consciously noticed. He told Psyche he would love him no matter what, even if he were like you.]

Shizuo’s heart leapt at this. He wouldn’t expect anything less of a Momzilla like Izaya, but to hear that he would still _love_ something in Psyche that was from him…

_He has to still love me. And if he doesn’t, I have to make him love me again._

Seeing Shizuo’s determined expression deepen, Celty offered one more reminder. [Don’t be too forceful, Shizuo. **One day at a time.** ] Then, noting the new appearance of a certain police operated vehicle, she sent the man a farewell wave and zoomed away.

_One day at a time, huh…_

Shizuo inhaled from his cigarette thickly, the aroma of nicotine relaxing his tense shoulders. He exhaled in a calm plume, and idly tapped the bench he was sitting on. He’d been having a rare dinner with Kasuka when the Dullahan had texted her location. Largely, the dinner (self-initiated, for once) was an attempt at distraction from the day tomorrow, but he had _needed_ to hear how the visit had gone with Shinra and Celty.

Kasuka hadn’t minded him running out. He knew about Psyche, after all. As much as Shizuo had wanted to keep his child a secret (well, not really, they were always Izaya’s rules) Kasuka had always known his brother well. It hadn’t taken much for him to find a few photos of Psyche and put things together.

 

* * *

 

 

“He looks like you, nii-san.” Kasuka had noted dully. Despite his surprise (evident only in the slightest raising of his perfectly groomed eyebrows) he wasn’t in disbelief. He accepted what Shizuo had told him, unconditionally. He didn’t even want proof from Shinra.

This caused Shizuo to frown in confusion. He glanced down at the photo Kasuka had chosen. It was well-loved, with crumpled corners that were commonly grasped by Shizuo’s hands. That woman who worked with Izaya…

_Namie._

He reminded himself with distaste. The woman had gotten a set developed at the behest of Izaya, solely for Shizuo, since the man complained so often about technology…

The set had been a gift. A rather generous one. The photographs had been taken with a professional camera, as well.

Psyche was smiling in this one. The baby had smiled so much that Shinra often worried if the baby had chronic gas (which, thankfully, he didn’t.) Psyche was just a happy child, and his smiles were a gift all on their own. Especially when directed at their parents.

He was smiling directly at the lens here. A rare catch, since babies had no care for timing or posing. Izaya had been behind Namie, and accidentally slopped a glass of water down the woman’s back as he leant down to see the screen. Apparently the woman had given a large screech, and it had triggered a fit of laughter from the baby.

Shizuo squinted at the photograph.

Dark raven hair. _Izaya._

Pale skin. _Izaya._

Delicate features. _Izaya._

Small body. _Izaya._

“I don’t see it.” Shizuo said flatly. “He looks just like his mother.”

This was the first time Kasuka had heard Shizuo address Izaya as a mother, and he blinked once in further surprise. Clearly, he hadn’t expected such a title to be associated with the informant. “Perhaps upon first glance.” He responded evenly, and tapped at the toothless smile upon Psyche’s photographed face. “But that smile is definitely yours. I’ve never seen Orihara-san smile so openly.”

“Well, he doesn’t that often. Only at Psyche, really.”

“He looks like you.” Kasuka repeated, more firmly. “When you smile.”

Shizuo cocked his head, but still couldn’t see a resemblance.

“So why did Orihara-san name him Psyche?”

Shizuo shrugged. “He said it was ‘on a whim’, or some bullshit. You know what he’s like. No _regular_ name is good enough for his standards.”

“You don’t like it, nii-san?”

“No.” Shizuo denied. “I love it. I love everything about that kid. Even how clingy he is on his mother. It just shows how much love he has in his heart.”

It was such a sappy, emotional thing to say. Something Izaya would have mocked him relentlessly for. But he felt it. And when Shizuo felt something, he couldn’t exactly stop it. He didn’t have that ability. Not like Izaya. It was hard for him to hold back.

“He must have a big heart,” Kasuka stated factually. “Like you, nii-san. I’d like to meet him one day, if his _mother_ would allow it.”

There was a hint of distaste when Kasuka said ‘mother’ and Shizuo immediately sought to shut such negative sentiment down. Izaya didn’t need anyone else angry or disappointed with him. He had more than enough people already. Besides, he wanted Kasuka to have a good relationship with Psyche, when Izaya eventually came back.

“He is a good mother.” Shizuo told Kasuka. “You wouldn’t think the louse would be a good parent, but he is. It was some…dormant spirit within him. The way he coddles that kid…” He shook his head with a fond grin. “You wouldn’t believe it, Kasuka.”

“Seeing is believing.”

“In that case, I hope you can see him someday soon.”

“I’d like that, Shizuo.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Psyche deserves more than one uncle._

Shizuo thought.

_But I can’t introduce Kasuka to him yet. I promised that flea I’d wait to tell anyone until he felt ready…_

Shizuo hoped Izaya deemed Psyche ‘ready’ soon.

_No. The real problem is whether **Izaya** will be ready._

He just had to take Celty’s advice for the meantime.

 

* * *

 

 

“How come you didn’t want to stay for dinner, Mom?” Psyche asked, a bowl of ramen before him. He was slurping from it tiredly, exhausted after a day at Celty and Shinra’s.

Izaya had returned home later than they had anticipated, and had foregone his plan for a healthy, balanced dinner with ramen instead. He felt a little guilty, but Psyche didn’t seem to mind. Besides, the kid likely wouldn’t stay awake much longer. He’d insisted on having a bath at Celty and Shinra’s (a tactic to stay at their home longer, one Izaya didn’t miss) and had even wanted to stay for dinner. This would have been agreeable, if _Celty_ hadn’t been the one to volunteer to cook. He didn’t want Psyche to get food poisoning.

Luckily, he’d been able to leave without offending the Dullahan, with the excuse of Psyche _really_ needing to settle in back home. No one should be subjected to the disaster that was Celty’s poor culinary understanding. He’d been unlucky once.

A miserable few days of vomiting and stomach cramps had been the result.

And Izaya had no desire to look after a sick child. It was hard to see your baby sick, and even harder when your baby was getting too big to carry around comfortably. Psyche was clingy when he was sick, _ridiculously_ clingy.

“It’s your bedtime soon, Psyche-chan.” Izaya replied, using his chopsticks with much more finesse. “You can have dinner with Uncle Shinra and Aunt Celty another time.”

“-O-“ Psyche’s jaw stretched in a yawn, and he blinked blearily. “-Okay, Mommy.”

Izaya smiled at Psyche fondly, and touched his face softly. “Did you have fun today?”

“Mhm.” Psyche nodded, with another yawn. “Shinra is funny, Mama. And Celty is really cool…”

The chopsticks in his small hands slipped slightly, and Izaya swooped in. It was clear the boy would fall asleep face-first in his bowl if he didn’t go to bed. He picked up the small boy, supporting his back and bottom carefully. “Are you finished, Psyche?”

“Yeah…” Psyche nodded, resting his head on Izaya’s shoulder.

It never ceased to amaze him how quick children could crash.

“I want you to have a nice sleep,” Izaya said, heading up the stairs. “With nice dreams. Your father is coming to visit tomorrow, so you need your energy.”

Psyche groaned irritably at this, and his closed eyes slitted open. “Mommy, I don’t want-“

“Hush.” Izaya said softly, running a hand through Psyche’s hair. “Everything will be fine. I’ll be there.”

“I’ll-“ Another yawn. “Protect-“

Izaya shushed him again. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

Psyche made a vague whining sound, struggling to stay coherent, but fell asleep easily. He’d had a big day of excitement, and it had worn him out.

Izaya silently changed Psyche into his pyjamas, and tucked the boy in bed. As usual, he stirred when completely separated from his mother, but Izaya managed to get away after humming for a few minutes. The quiet music soothed the boy, and helped his sleep deepen. Once Psyche was completely still, (save for the steady rising and falling of his chest) he strode back downstairs, where Namie was clearing away their abandoned ramen. “Thank you, wife dearest~” Izaya cooed mockingly.

Namie sniffed disdainfully, and sent him a glare for the comment. “Shut up, Orihara.”

Izaya pouted. “I was just trying to express my gratitude. How rude…”

“You can express your _gratitude_ with a pay rise.” Namie said, shutting the dishwasher rather loudly. “I’m not a taxi service. You can’t change the times I pick you up.”

_Ah. She’s still irritated._

Namie had intended to drive Izaya and Psyche home much earlier that day, but their visit to Shinra and Celty’s had extended exponentially, meaning the woman had had to cancel her evening plans to fetch them at a later time.

What plans _Namie_ had, Izaya wasn’t sure. And truthfully, he didn’t want to know. He’d grown past meddling in her private life, at least. She could do whatever she wanted, so long as it didn’t hurt Psyche.

“Did I interrupt something important?” Izaya teased nevertheless. He wasn’t going soft. “A romantic date? Important business deal? Covert stalking?”

“Mind your own business.” She predictably snapped. The woman snatched the grey coat she had discarded, slipping it back on as she headed for the door. “I expect monetary compensation for my time, Orihara.”

“My, my. And here I thought you genuinely cared about Psyche and me.” Izaya clutched his chest with faux hurtfulness. “Just take the day off tomorrow, instead. Shizuo is coming around and I doubt your presence will help matters.” Originally, he had planned on having the woman come in to do some filing, but that would likely increase the uncomfortable tension that lingered around the family.

“Heiwajima, huh?” She said thoughtfully, pausing at the threshold. “I saw him tonight.”

“What was he doing? Beating up hapless fools?”

“Dinner.” Namie said shortly. “At a rather nice place, as well.”

_A ‘nice place’? Who would Shizu-chan be taking to dinner? In a fancy establishment, no less. The nicest place I’ve seen him eat is at a McDonalds._

Okay. Maybe his scathing criticism was a little inaccurate (Izaya had seen Shizuo dine in much nicer places than fast food chains) but for some reason this occurrence perturbed him.

_Who could he have taken? Was it a date?_

Not that that would have _bothered_ him. Shizuo was entitled to date whoever he pleased.

Before Izaya had time to inquire about Shizuo’s companion, Namie was slipping out the door. He contemplated following her, but knew such an action would be pathetic. It would be oozing with desperation. And he **_really_** didn’t care about Shizuo’s love life.

_Not even a little._

The feeling twisting in his stomach was _not_ jealousy.

 

* * *

 

 

Even though Shizuo had expressed his desire to take Psyche outside of the apartment, Izaya refused to prepare Psyche for such an excursion. Frankly, he didn’t think his nerves were steady enough for such a public outing.

After all, anything could and _would_ happen in Tokyo, and Izaya didn’t want his precious son caught up in any of the drama he used to relish in.

So he chose indoor clothing for Psyche, and prepared a schedule for the day. It would need to progress at a slow and steady pace, so the boy didn’t feel overwhelmed and get upset.

The last visit had gone better than Izaya had expected, but he still failed to predict Shizuo’s behaviour. This meant he could never be completely certain how the man would behave.

It was a major inconvenience. If Izaya could read Shizuo, the same way he could every other human, he wouldn’t need to be so apprehensive about his visits. He would know for certain what to prepare for. Prepare his words and reactions impeccably, ahead of time.

When mid-morning came, Psyche was uncharacteristically antsy. Despite Izaya’s best efforts to distract his son (which involved everything from painting to building a fort on the lounge) Psyche seemed distant. Worried. It was clear his mind was preoccupied with Shizuo.

This frustrated Izaya immensely. He’d never failed Psyche before, and the fact that his attempts now were failing only served to make him dislike Shizuo more.

_How could anyone possibly think Shizu-chan is good for us when he causes such disruption to our life? Our **happy** life?_

They were doing just fine on their own.

“Mommy can I listen to some music?”

Psyche’s sweet voice interrupted Izaya’s mutinous thoughts, and he blinked downwards distractedly.

He’d been on his computer, skimming over a few work documents whilst Psyche crafted things with Playdoh. He’d been trying to distract himself with the tedium that was paperwork, but his efforts were wasted. His mind kept wandering. “Of course, sweetheart.” Izaya affirmed with no argument, angling the boy a soothing smile. “What kind of music do you want?”

_Please don’t say that kiddie pop…_

Psyche had a sweeping taste for music, one that encompassed the lesser popular classic to irritating, repetitive American children’s songs. Not to mention the Australian children’s music…

Accents had never been more grating to Izaya’s ears.

“The piano music, please!” Psyche requested cheerfully.

“Good manners.” Izaya praised, getting up to insert a CD into the music player. He had most of the songs on an iPod for portable usage, but found using a CD player in their home was easier. When Psyche didn’t play with the discs and get his grimy fingerprints on them that is. The amount of times Izaya had scolded the boy over the years for misusing the discs were countless. The boy had even had a penchant for hiding them at one stage, jamming them in random spaces for Izaya to find later. The most memorable had been a toaster. “There we are.” He said, pressing the play button. Immediately, the delicate sound of piano keys filtered through the otherwise quiet apartment.

Psyche spun in a small circle at the sound, and Izaya smiled, endeared by his actions. The child continued his spinning upon glimpsing Izaya’s face, and soon the informant was on his feet as well, joining in on the action. It just looked so _fun._

“Dizzy!” Psyche giggled, bumping into Izaya’s side. His mother steadied him, and Psyche grasped his hands as firmly as he could manage. “Mama, spin with me!”

Izaya didn’t need a second invitation. He’d been spinning Psyche around since the boy was a toddler. His son found great enjoyment in the motion.

_Maybe I spun around on my desk chair too much when he was in the womb…_

Izaya mused.

The pair giggled together as the spinning increased in speed, and Izaya was just preparing to slow down when a knock was heard reverberating on the door. It startled the pair, and Izaya released Psyche to pause the music. “Your father is here.” He announced, rather needlessly.

Psyche’s delighted expression faded into one of apathy, and he returned to his little table, fidgeting with the Playdoh. Clearly, he didn’t intend on greeting Shizuo.

Heaving a small sigh, Izaya walked to the door.

_I may as well get this over with quickly._

Bracing himself for a thoroughly unpleasant day, Izaya undid the locks, swinging the door open to reveal his former lover. Shizuo was well presented, in casual clothing and with neat hair. His usual sunglasses sat perched on his nose, and he sported an eager smile.

He looked so much the young, hopeful father, that it made Izaya’s knees feel a little weak. Not only was Shizuo still ridiculously attractive, he was even _more_ so when he seemed genuinely invested in their family. To Izaya, there was nothing more handsome than a family orientated Shizuo.

Even now.

**_No._ **

Izaya chided himself, willing away the new heat in his cheeks.

_Remember what he did. Remember what he said._

The words echoed in his ears fainter than usual, but they still served to cool the flustered informant down. “Shizu-chan.” He greeted tonelessly, moving aside to allow the man into the apartment.

Shizuo stepped inside, and moved for Izaya’s cheek. Firm, slightly chapped lips settled on the flesh there, warm and homely, before moving away a second later.

The action felt so familiar. So comforting and nice. Like Shizuo was returning home from a day at work, and was giving him the obligatory kiss like some stereotypical domestic husband…

But he wasn’t. That scenario was _**wrong.**_

Izaya hissed at the man like a startled feline, taking a large step backwards in case the brute made any further attempts at intimacy. The scary thing was, he didn’t know if he’d be able to resist if the blond did… “You protozoan,” He snapped quietly. “How daft are you? I told you, if Psyche sees you do something like that-“

“Affection is completely natural.” Shizuo interrupted, in a slightly amused baritone. “Even if we aren’t together at the moment.”

“That isn’t how I do things-“

“It was one peck, louse. Not even a proper kiss. Psyche didn’t see us, anyway. Relax.”

_So unconcerned and flippant. He has no idea-_

“You look a little…frazzled.” Shizuo said, the adjective a little awkward in his mouth.

For the first time, Izaya became aware of his flyaway hair (mussed from spinning) and his crinkled clothing. He ran a hand through his raven strands quickly. “I’m fine.” He said, acidic. “Not everyone has the time to look impeccable.”

Shizuo smirked, roguish. “You think I look impeccable?”

“No.”

“That wasn’t what you implied.”

How the tables had turned. Now _he_ was the one being teased.

“While I appreciate your growing vocabulary-“

“Mommy?”

The bickering was cut short by the sound of a worried voice.

Psyche had ventured from the lounge area, and was regarding the scene wearily.

_Damn it. I took too long. Now he’ll know I was arguing with Shizu-chan._

Sending Shizuo a deadly look, he forced a fake smile on his face, mustering as much pleasantness as possible. “Psyche-chan, I was just speaking with your father. Why don’t you come and say hello?”

Psyche crinkled his cute little nose at the suggestion. “No thanks.”

The grin that had come onto Shizuo’s face (spreading rapidly at the appearance of his son) strained considerably.

“Now, now,” Izaya said, barely chiding. “That isn’t very nice, sweetheart.”

Psyche sent Shizuo his own deadly look (considerably weaker than his mother’s) but heeded Izaya’s advice, greeting his father with obvious dislike. “Hello, butthead.”

_Butthead?_

Izaya thought incredulously. It was such a juvenile name, still…

_I can’t help but be impressed with his persistence._

Stubbornness was a trait Izaya held, but it was one even more prevalent in Shizuo.

It was a little amusing, to see Psyche wage a battle with Shizuo with the same stubbornness he had inherited from the man.

“ _Psyche_.” Izaya scolded, lips twitching as he contained his mirth.

Much to his surprise (and relief) Shizuo didn’t make an issue of Psyche’s greeting. Rather, he avoided commenting on it altogether, instead focusing on his own greeting to the boy. “Hey, Psyche. How are you today?”

Psyche, who had clearly been expecting retribution, was taken-aback by Shizuo’s approach, and blinked in confusion.

_Ah, Psyche. Never let him get the better of you._

It was a competitive thought, and Izaya pushed it aside.

_I won’t push him to answer. Not so early into the visit._

“Psyche and I were just playing in the lounge.” Izaya answered for the boy. “Would you like something to drink, Shizu-chan?”

“As long as it isn’t laced with poison.” Shizuo said, in gruff good-humour.

A smirk flickered across Izaya’s mouth. “Don’t tempt me.”

“I’ll have milk, then.”

“Of course you will.”

“There’s nothing wrong with drinking milk. It’s healthy.”

“Perhaps for babies and children. For grown men it’s just sad.”

“At least I’m not addicted to coffee.”

“Some of us have busy lives.”

The bantering was cut short when Psyche cleared his throat, eyes narrowed at the pair.

Izaya immediately dropped his smirk, a feeling of shame shooting through him. This wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing. It was only Shizuo’s second visit, and already he was beginning to cave.

_I **can’t** be this weak._

“Sit on the lounge.” Izaya suddenly ordered, face impassive. “I’ll get you your milk.” Then, his features softened. “Do you want some milk, Psyche-chan?”

Psyche frowned stormily. “ ** _No._** I want coffee, like Mama.”

Izaya snorted, endeared by the request. He may have been more modern in his parenting, but there was no way he was giving Psyche coffee. The boy was hyperactive enough. Plus, he knew his son would hate the taste. He had a sweet tooth, like his father.

_Speaking of Shizu-chan, I bet he’s about to interject with some denial now._

“I’ll be in the lounge.” Shizuo murmured, before striding straight past the stroppy young boy.

“Huh.” Izaya muttered, somewhat miffed. He was nearly impressed. It must have taken Shizuo a lot of self-restraint not to incite some kind of argument. “No, Psyche.” He said firmly. “Coffee isn’t for little boys.”

“But-“

“No buts. Besides, Mommy isn’t drinking coffee. I’m having tea. If you want something warm, I can make you a hot chocolate.”

“With marshmallows?”

“You and your sweet tooth.” Izaya sighed. “Yes, okay. But only one.”

“YAY!” Psyche cheered, momentarily forgetting about the sour attitude he reserved for Shizuo’s visits. “Thanks Mommy! Can I help?”

“Of course you can, my little helper.” Izaya cooed, walking to Psyche’s side and pecking his forehead. “Aren’t you just a little angel…”

_Even if his ‘helping’ can be chaotic._

 

* * *

 

 

“How can you expect me to work to my full capacity when incidents like this are commonplace?” The voice is icy, and Namie’s face is even more so. She’s standing over a collapsed shelf, numerous files littering the ground.

Numerous, painstakingly, _alphabetised_ files. Files that took a long time to arrange in Izaya’s perfect order. Files she’d _just_ finished unpacking from their newest travel venture.

The woman was clearly jetlagged, with tangled hair and tired eyes, and Izaya was slightly worried she might try and maim him. She still struggled to adjust to travel.

“No need to be so dramatic, Namie dear. It was just an accident.” Izaya replied, idly examining his nails for glitter. Psyche had been doing craft earlier that day. Before he’d decided to scale the bookshelf…

“I’ve noticed the increasing frequency of accidents around here lately.” Namie said dryly. “First there was the sink incident, then the washing machine, not to mention when he managed to get onto your computer…”

Izaya cringed. Somehow, Psyche had managed to send a large amount of his clients an email containing nothing but gibberish. Needless to say, explaining things was rather embarrassing. Not to mention the broken keys on his keyboard…

“Perhaps it is time you consider childcare. Clearly, Psyche is bored and needs stimulation.”

Izaya puffed up like a protective hen, metaphorical feathers well and truly ruffled. “Psyche doesn’t need childcare.” He spat, eyes narrowed into a glare. “And how would that even work? It’s not like we stay anywhere long term.”

Namie thinned her lips, clearly holding back a retort she knew Izaya wouldn’t like. Usually she said what she pleased, but when it came to Psyche, she exercised more tact.

Izaya sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Go ahead,” He instructed. “Say it.”

“Children need stability.” She began flatly. “Without that, behavioural issues will arise. Your routine is so unpredictable that I wonder if he may grow up with volatile behaviour.”

“He _won’t_. And he isn’t _bored_.”

“Well if he isn’t bored, and your travelling lifestyle isn’t hurting him, then what is the source of such destructive behaviour?”

“ ** _Namie_**.” Izaya snapped, understanding her implications. “Don’t you-“

“He had to inherit something from his father, right? It’s how genes work. I know you like to think Psyche is all you, but-“

“Mommy?” An innocent voice interrupted their conversation, and the two stopped their bickering. Namie crossed her arms with a flick of her silky hair, and Izaya huffed. Psyche stood before them, wide-eyed and with a contrite expression on his face. “Are you and Namie-chan mad at me?”

“Of course not.” Izaya was quick to deny, ignoring Namie’s eye roll. “We’re just a little confused, sweetheart. Why did you climb the bookcase? Were you playing hiking?”

Psyche shook his head, and Izaya could feel triumph wafting from Namie. “Uh-uh.”

“Then why did you do it?” Namie cut in, haughtiness on her face. “Because you felt like it?”

“No.” Psyche shook his head once more. “I just wanted to help. You and Mama are always so busy…”

And Namie’s triumph turned sour.

But it shouldn’t have.

After all, Psyche hadn’t inherited a desire to _help_ people from Izaya. Shizuo, no matter how gruff and abrasive, had always liked helping others when he could.

She was right. It was how genetics worked.

 

* * *

 

 

It didn’t take long to make the hot chocolate, and Izaya did so in silence, caught up in memories. Psyche hummed to himself cheerfully, almost spilling the cocoa powder on the floor as he spooned some into his mug. It was an overload of cocoa, thick and gluggy, and the sweet marshmallow on top (pink, of course) only served to make Izaya feel queasy.

_So much sugar, he’s going to get a major sugar rush…_

Shizuo was sitting patiently on the lounge when Izaya re-emerged, and accepted his glass of milk with murmured thanks. Psyche shot him a grouchy look, and made a show of sitting as far away from the man as possible.

_Here we go._

Izaya inwardly sighed, taking a long sip from his tea. The warm liquid was soothing. “Psyche has been doing Playdoh today.” He said, just to fill the quiet before Shizuo said something stupid.

“I saw that.” Shizuo’s voice was measured, but there was a smirk on his face. “Pink. I guess some things never change.”

“Mommy said boys can like pink!” Psyche immediately went on the defensive. “He said only brutes with fragile m-masculinity say they don’t like pink!”

Psyche had tripped over the word ‘masculinity’, but Shizuo still raised his eyebrows. “This kid knows some big words.”

_Something he didn’t inherit from you._

Izaya wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. Judging by Shizuo’s amused eyes, the protozoan knew _exactly_ what he’d thought. “Which is exactly right, Psyche-chan. Pink is a great colour.”

There was another pause, whilst they each sipped their respective beverages. Izaya almost felt calm, until Shizuo opened his mouth. “Are you two ready to go outside today? I know Psyche hasn’t seen Tokyo for a while, so I thought we could look around Ikebukuro.”

Psyche perked up at the mention of exploring Tokyo, but Izaya immediately shook his head. “Not yet, Shizu-c _ou_.” He caught himself before uttering the old nickname. “It isn’t the right time. I still need to prepare-“

“For what?” Shizuo snorted. “ _I’ll_ be with you. You have nothing to fear. Besides, I know you’re probably dying for some Russia Sushi-“

“Russia Sushi?” Psyche piped, eyes glimmering. “Can we please go Mom?”

_It seems Psyche’s excitement for new places has momentarily overrode his dislike for Shizu-chan._

Facing the two males, Izaya sighed again.

**_What am I supposed to do?_ **

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness and abrupt ending. I could have kept going, but the quality would have been very poor since I haven't been that motivated about this. I will continue this story, though. Even if it takes me a little longer to update than I first anticipated. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed the insight into some of the traits Psyche and Shizuo share. It seemed a lot of you were eager for me to elaborate on their similarities. Of course, this is just my take on the characters, and by no means accurate. 
> 
> (Please) Review if you would like. No pressure though. 
> 
> Have a good day/night!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I intend to continue this, but would appreciate some feedback to appease my interest. I never thought I'd write something of this nature. That said, no pressure. I hope someone happened to like this. Have a nice day/night.


End file.
